


Open Invitation

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: Alex Rider (TV 2020), Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Age Difference, Alex Rider Needs a Hug, Alternate Timelines, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Emotional Hurt, Exhibitionism, First Time, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Happy Sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Power Imbalance, Rape Fantasy, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25914427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: Written for the kinkmeme prompt of:Alex didn't figure out the truth about Ian's death and MI6 never thought to recruit him. After the tragic death of his uncle, Alex is in a bad place. He's angry at the world and start starts acting out, skipping school/sex/alcohol/drugs/partying, etc. One night, he sees a strangely compelling older man watching him intently. He doesn't think much of it at first, until he starts seeing the man every night, always watching Alex, and only Alex. A little scared and a little flattered, he decides to give the man something more compelling to watch.After making sure MI6 bought the Korean cover story, Yassen gets Ian's address from Wilby so he can check the house for potential loose ends. He doesn't expect to find a ghost living there. Intrigued, he decides to investigate and soon finds himself playing a strange, intoxicating game with a self-destructive schoolboy, night after night.
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Comments: 198
Kudos: 213
Collections: Alex Rider Kinkmeme





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reading the tags is recommended. Alex is 15 turning to 16 in this.

Alex isn’t quite sure when he first noticed he was being watched. When it finally impinges on his consciousness it feels like there are other times he registered the man’s presence without really being aware of it. Following him home. Standing in a queue behind him. Leaning against the wall opposite the house. A shadow amongst shadows, never quite distinct enough to make out details but so often there.

He thinks he should probably be alarmed, but Alex stopped caring what happened to him some time ago. His grades have fallen through the floor, but there’s no-one to tell him off for it any more. Some days he doesn’t even bother going to school, although mostly he does. It means he doesn’t have to think of something else to do with himself. He can just sit blankly in classes, a respite of a few hours before he has to go home again to the empty house.

Jack left some time ago, back to America, her family and her future. Alex doesn’t begrudge her. He’d have left him too, if he could. There was supposed to be someone else, arranged by the local authority to come and keep an eye on him, but some administrative glitch meant they never turned up. Alex has never mentioned it. It means he’s left to his own devices, and that suits him. The house is his, now, and he’ll be sixteen in a couple of months. Enough of an adult for them to stop bothering him. He’s not sure he feels like a grown-up yet, but he knows he hasn’t felt like a child for a long time. 

He doesn’t feel like anything, really.

The presence of the silent watcher is the first thing that’s stirred him out of his depressive stupor in weeks. At first Alex is irritated more than anything. He wonders if it’s some governmental busybody come to check up on him, whether they’ve finally realised he’s been left completely unsupervised. But the days pass and nothing happens, and he concedes it must be something else.

A stalker, then? Some filthy predator who’s noticed a teenage boy living on his own and is going to make a move? Alex runs scenarios through his head. Being bundled into a van. Being followed to his front door, pushed inside, assaulted on the floor. The only effect of these imaginary worse-case scenarios is to give him his first erection in months. 

He’s fairly sure that’s not meant to happen, but who is he to look a gift-horse in the mouth? He hasn’t really felt like it for a long time, but something about this idea perversely appeals to him. He’s safe enough, after all, sitting here on the couch, indulging his fantasies.

Alex unzips himself, sliding a hand into his pants, curling a hand around his dick. He should probably close the blinds he thinks belatedly. If anyone was outside, they’d be getting an eyeful.

The thought makes him sit up, as he realises there is a reasonably good chance that somebody _is_ outside. It’s dark, and all he can see is the reflection of himself in the glass, one hand still furtively inside his trousers. 

Fuck it. If the sick fuck wants to watch, then Alex will give him a show.

He pushes his jeans down round his knees, wriggles his pants down as well. He’s sitting facing the window, knees splayed, hand around his thickening cock, starting to stroke himself. 

This will teach them, he thinks. Spying on him like this. Give them something they didn’t expect. Shame them into leaving him alone. 

Or. 

Give them what they came for. 

“You enjoying this?” He means it to sound defiant, but the words seem to be swallowed up by the heavy silence of the house. He should have put music on. White noise, to drown out his thoughts.

His hand moves faster, hips bucking slightly as he gets into it. Thinking again about his anonymous observer, thinking again about being grabbed, overpowered, brutalised. 

He knows, rationally, it wouldn’t be like the fantasy, but that doesn’t dampen the throb of arousal. 

There’s a pleasant warmth in his groin now, a sense of pressure and anticipation building under his pumping fist. 

The thought of being watched makes everything feel more sensitive, an added level of awareness. Masturbation as performance art. 

He pushes his shirt up with his free hand, splaying his fingers over his belly, pulling his cock up against himself with long, obscene strokes. 

If he is being watched, is this making them hard too? The thought is a compelling one. That he could have an influence on someone, over someone, however small and meaningless. 

Alex knows this is likely all in his head. What are the chances of someone really stalking him? Who would be interested in him, after all? But he knows the next time he takes a shortcut down the alley on the way home, his skin will be prickling with the fear and anticipation of being followed. Knows, too, that he’ll still take it. 

He imagines hands on him, rough and bruising and hungry. Imagines having his clothes torn away, his legs forced apart. Imagines - 

He comes, hard, all over his stomach and shirt. Slumps back, panting hard, wiping stray drops from his chin with his sleeve.

When it’s over Alex feels abruptly self-conscious and hurriedly pulls his clothes back up without bothering to wipe himself, feeling the smearing slide of his release across his skin as it soaks into the material.

Was that a noise outside? Alex freezes, his heart suddenly thudding loudly in his ears. The reality of the situation hits him with a jolt and he snaps off the light and crosses to the window.

There’s no-one to be seen, and he breathes a little easier, although he also knows he has to be sure. Before he can consider if it’s a bad idea or not Alex unlocks the front door and steps outside. The street is deserted, and he’s about to go back inside with a sigh of relief when he sees it.

A pair of footprints pressed deeply into the flowerbed outside the window, as if someone had stood there for some time, looking in.

–

Yassen got his first glimpse of Alex Rider at his uncle’s burial. It was always instructive, attending the funeral of an MI6 agent, committing the faces of the mourners to memory in case it came in useful in the future. Sentiment outweighed sense in so many of these cases.

He wasn’t part of the mourning party – his own face was known to several of those present, after all – but he had the knack of looking so unobtrusive as to be effectively invisible and one more figure in black here was never going to draw any gazes.

It was the solemn-faced blond boy who drew his own attention though. Yassen couldn’t take his eyes off him, so familiar and strange all at once. 

As the funeral party moved away Yassen stepped out from behind a wall just as Wilby walked past.

“Jesus! You nearly gave me a heart attack. What the fuck are you doing here?” Wilby hissed, looking round anxiously. 

“Who’s the kid?”

“Who? Alex?” Wilby shook his head. “One of the Riders. Why?”

“I didn’t know Ian had a son?”

“He doesn’t. Didn’t. Alex is his nephew.”

“John’s son? Of course.” Yassen stared across the car park at where the boy was being guided into a car by a grave looking woman in a black suit. Tulip Jones, he thought. Wondering who Alex believed she was. 

“Why do you care?” Wilby asked curiously. 

“I don’t.” Yassen forced his attention back to the man in front of him. “Just wondered.”

“Well. Anyway, they bought the story,” Wilby told him eagerly. “You’re in the clear.”

“We,” Yassen reminded him. “We, are in the clear.”

“Yes. Of course.” Wilby looked uncomfortable. “Well, don’t suppose I’ll see you again, so goodbye, eh?”

“No?” Yassen smiled. “Perhaps not.” 

Wilby had turned to watch the cars pulling out, but this subtle hint that they might not have finished with him after all made him spin back in sudden alarm. But the path was empty, and Yassen had gone.

–

For the next couple of months, Yassen gave little thought to Alex Rider. He was busy, for one thing. Alan Blunt’s suspicions regarding the Roscoe clone had resulted in a covert arrest, and subsequent DNA testing had been grounds for a full-scale raid on the Point Blanc Academy. Yassen had been dispatched to do a certain amount of mopping up. After that, he’d been assigned to a megalomanic who’d pissed him off so much Yassen had simply shot him. He’d half expected to be reprimanded for it, but it wasn’t like there was a shortage of customers.

It was some while, in any case, before he found himself back in London with time on his hands, and his thoughts turned back to the boy he’d seen that day in the memorial garden.

It only took the most basic search of publicly available records to find out his school and his address. Yassen found his facebook page too, noting it hadn’t been updated since his uncle’s death. 

He drove to the Rider house, parking a few houses down and across the road. Facing in the direction that Alex would come, returning from school. Simple curiosity, he told himself. He would indulge himself this once, and then never come back. 

When Alex finally appeared he was on foot, walking slowly and with his head down, a picture of dejection. He dragged his feet as he crossed the road and entered the tiny front garden space, fumbling for his keys and letting himself into the house.

Yassen watched in thoughtful silence. All the other schoolchildren that had streamed past had been in high spirits and mostly in groups. Even from this distance Alex had been radiating misery and hostile isolation. 

Yassen tapped a finger against his lips. If he’d been a man troubled by guilt he might have felt a twinge here, but Alex’s mental state wasn’t his responsibility whichever way you looked at it. Maybe he’d just had a bad day. Yassen pulled away, watching the house recede behind him in the rearview mirror. It was where he should leave it. 

–

Curiosity was a terrible thing, Yassen decided two days later, sitting in the same car across from Alex’s school gates. He’d done some digging, and established that since Ian’s untimely demise Alex had been living alone. While not unexpected in some countries this seemed surprising for Britain. Some bureaucratic cock-up, Yassen surmised. He’d also accessed Alex’s school records and seen first hand the story of a bright pupil with spiralling grades. 

It wasn’t his problem. He didn’t even know why he was here. He’d faced worse at that age, hadn’t he? Alex should pull himself together. 

Across the road Alex emerged from the gates, clearly alone even in the middle of a crowd of swarming children.

Yassen let him walk out of sight then drove around to park up ahead of him, let Alex walk past him again. He wondered if Alex would notice the car, notice he was being watched, but Alex was somewhere far inside his own head and didn’t so much as glance at him.

The next few weeks involved a job in London, and in spare moments Yassen found himself drawn back time and time again to the quiet road in Chelsea. He was forming a picture of Alex now. He seemed to have no friends at all – Yassen had seen a couple of classmates try and speak to him, but Alex had always shrugged them off and kept walking. He went to school, but seemed not to bother working. 

He drank, too. Not in the rebellious manner of his peers, partying and binging and cheerfully throwing up in the gutters at midnight. Not even because of a genuine liking for it, as far as Yassen could tell. But occasionally Alex would arrive home, slump on the couch and pour himself shot after shot of whisky until he passed out.

That wasn’t drinking for pleasure. That was drinking to numb yourself. Yassen, watching from the car with a pair of binoculars, safely hidden by tinted windows, wondered how long Alex could carry on like this. 

Alex was so oblivious to his surroundings that Yassen started taking greater risks, following him on foot rather than in the car. Once Alex physically brushed past him, and Yassen experienced an unexpected frisson. He shouldn’t be letting the boy get into his head like this, he told himself sternly. Any personal connection was dangerous and Alex was clearly damaged and vulnerable. 

That shouldn’t make him so appealing. 

He would leave, Yassen decided. He had a job offer in South America, a month or so of jungle heat would sort out his head. Maybe he should offer the same to Alex, he thought with a thin smile. 

Alex. Perhaps one last visit, before he left. It couldn’t hurt. 

It was dark when Yassen arrived, and he was pleased to see the light on in Alex’s front room, the blinds clearly wide open. 

The street was deserted so he got out of the car and crossed to the house, dark grey clothes melding with the shadows. Even if someone passed, they wouldn’t notice him. Stood to the side of the window and looked in, half-expecting to find Alex lying drunk.

What he didn’t expect was to find Alex with his hand down the front of his trousers. Yassen froze. Alex was staring straight at the window, although not at where he was standing, and Yassen didn’t think with the light on inside that Alex could see him.

He should leave. Alex, surely, didn’t mean this to be seen. On the other hand, he must know he was on show like this. 

As he watched, Alex relaxed back into the cushions, shuffling his clothing down to his knees and spreading his legs. Yassen’s eyes were fixed on him now, on the movement of his hand, on the sight of his cock sliding through his fist. Alex was tall and athletic, the months of ennui yet to have an effect on his body. Yassen watched, captivated, as he writhed and panted under the ministrations of his own hand.

How would Alex move under his hands, Yassen wondered? It was the first time he had allowed himself to think of Alex in a deliberately sexual way. He acknowledged it had always been there, a prickle of guilty desire under the skin, but Yassen was a man of eminent self-control. He liked to think he would never have made the leap to actually picturing it alone. Alex was still only fifteen, even if he looked and acted older than his years.

But now – Alex was laid out for him like a particularly salacious invitation. And it wasn’t like watching could hurt. Alex didn’t even know he was there. Did he? It occurred to Yassen that Alex was very much putting on a show here.

Alex was nearing climax, he could tell. Yassen was hard himself, had been for some time. His trousers were tented obscenely over his erection, but he refused to touch himself out here. Maybe later, the details of this scene etched indelibly on his mind.

Inside, Alex groaned loudly enough for Yassen to catch it through the double glazing as he came all over himself, messy and uncaring.

Yassen took a deep breath to master himself, and a second to consider his next move. It had been an appealing display, and he wanted Alex to know it had not gone unappreciated. There was a flowerbed beneath the window, and he stepped heavily onto it, leaving behind two perfect footprints.

As he slipped back into the car, he was gratified to notice in the mirror Alex come outside and discover them.

Yassen palmed his hand across his crotch – just to adjust himself – and considered whether South America could wait.

-


	2. Chapter 2

Alex was halfway home from school the next day before he noticed the car.

It was a wonder he’d noticed anything, he’d spent most of the day with the kind of hangover that gave you the cold sweats. After he’d discovered the footprints he’d run back inside, slammed and locked the front door and pulled the blinds closed so hard he’d almost broken the track. He’d slid to the carpet with his back to the wall, heart pounding. The reality suddenly seemed a lot more frightening than the fantasy, and the wet stickiness in his clothes felt abruptly disgusting. 

When a full ten minutes had passed with nothing happening he’d crawled across to the door, not getting to his feet until he was in the hall. He’d collected a bottle of whisky from the kitchen and retreated to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and wedging a chair under the handle. 

Sleep had been a long time coming, and had more to do with the bottle being nearly empty than anything else.

In the cold light of day though, his fears of the night before had seemed a little ridiculous. Nothing had actually happened after all, he’d simply scared himself. Those footprints could have been there for ages. Someone playing a prank, maybe.

Alex felt a twinge of sadness. The days of anyone caring enough to prank him were long past. Tom had stuck with him longer than the rest, but in the end Alex’s withdrawn disinterest had pissed even him off. Alex wasn’t resentful. It had simply reinforced his belief that people didn’t care about you unless you were of use to them, or you were family and they had to. And there was no one who had to, any more.

Glancing left as he crossed a deserted residential road, Alex barely registered the black car turning the corner further up other than to check it was going slowly enough not to be a danger – but then he looked again and a chill went down his spine. It was the same car he’d seen a few times outside his house, a Mercedes SLK 350, a few years old but in beautiful condition, powerful without being flashy. He’d seen it at school too, he realised now, starting to walk a little quicker.

Was it his imagination, or did the car speed up as well, to keep pace with him?

Alex looked round again, trying to make out the driver, but the sun was in his eyes. He kept going, telling himself it was a coincidence, maybe the car belonged to a neighbour that was all, there were plenty of cars he saw all the time. 

Not waiting outside his school though. Not crawling down the road after him.

Alex turned into a side street, and as soon as he was out of sight started running. He was a good fast runner, even if he was a little out of condition and he made the second turning before the black car had appeared. 

He slowed down a little, breathing hard. He should stop scaring himself he thought, this was ridiculous. And then the black car slid into sight again behind him, like a shark fin through the water.

It belatedly occurred to Alex that if the driver knew where he lived and went to school then he would probably also know his route home.

Fear took over and Alex started running again, registering that the car was still keeping pace. His rucksack was thudding painfully and awkwardly against his back and Alex tried unsuccessfully to loop his other arm through the second strap as he ran. It was unbalancing him and trying to prevent it from sliding off was slowing him down but he didn’t dare stop and adjust it. 

If he could just reach the next turning he knew he could get away. The road was a dead end, at least if you were in a car – it ended in a row of bollards. If he could get there first he could get home and safely inside before the driver had time to turn around and take another route. 

Blood pounding in his ears, Alex ran for his life. He could hear the engine behind him getting louder every second but he was nearly at the pedestrian barrier and safety. A squeal of tyres made him look round at the last second, suddenly afraid he was going to be mown down and it was enough to make him misjudge the distance and slam painfully into one of the metal bollards.

He staggered onwards, clutching his arm. He was through but he’d dropped his bag. Alex looked back to see it lying in the road, the car having come to a standstill barely a metre away.

Gritting his teeth he abandoned it and ran on. 

His house keys, thank God, had been in his trouser pocket and Alex let himself into the house with shaking hands. 

What the hell was going on? He slumped into a chair in the kitchen and poured himself a shot to steady his nerves. It went down like raw fire and he was reminded he’d barely eaten anything all day. 

When Ian had died he’d left behind a couple of bottles of expensive single malt. Since finishing those Alex had stuck with whisky, although it was cheap supermarket blends these days. It felt somehow less tacky than drinking vodka.

He stared at his empty glass, wondering what the hell to do. His bag had had everything he needed in it – his phone, his wallet, his cards. Did he dare go out and see if it had been left there? Maybe another drink would give him the courage. The car had to have gone by now, right? Or had the driver taken it with him, was even now going through Alex’s things?

He sighed, and poured another shot. 

The doorbell almost made him spill cheap whisky all over the counter. Who the hell was that? Nobody came to visit him any more.

He edged out into the hallway as if he could see through the door. Went into the living room instead, peered out of the window. Couldn’t see anyone, nor was there any sign of the black car.

Alex screwed up his courage and went to the front door. Anyone planning on assaulting him wouldn’t ring the doorbell. Would they? 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Alex threw the door open before he could lose his nerve, then blinked in confusion because there was no one there. And then he looked down.

His bag was sitting on the doorstep. 

“What the fuck?” Alex looked up and down the road, but there was still no one in sight. He picked it up cautiously as if it might bite him, and carried it inside. 

Careful inspection of the contents revealed that everything was there – and no unpleasant surprises had been added. He found himself wondering if he was getting worked up about nothing. What if the driver of the car had just wanted to ask him directions or something? Or maybe someone else had brought the bag home. Tom might have recognised it and been good enough to drop it off while still refusing to stay and talk.

Alex flicked open his wallet, wondering if whoever it was had helped themselves to his cash as a reward – and stared. There was a fifty pound note that definitely hadn’t been there before. 

A number of images flashed through his mind in quick succession. Himself sprawling in front of the window, pulling himself off. Footprints in the flower bed. The black car.

Had he just been _paid?_

Alex fingered the money thoughtfully. It should have made him feel dirty but it came as a nice surprise, particularly given that a few minutes ago he’d been in fear of his life. 

What would have happened if he’d stopped, he wondered. Would the car have pulled right up to him? Would he have got _in_?

The thought made him shiver, not entirely unpleasantly. He was safely back in fantasy land now, could let his imagination play with the idea. Being driven to a secluded spot. The driver unzipping himself, Alex leaning over, taking him into his mouth. Maybe the driver would have his hand down the back of Alex’s trousers, pushing a finger -

Alex downed the second shot quickly, feeling lightheaded. Knowing with a guilty excitement that as soon as it got dark he’d be in front of the window again.

–

Yassen hadn’t particularly expected Alex to notice the car, he never had before after all, but perhaps after the previous night he was a little more on edge. Yassen pressed the throttle gently, out of a sense of devilry more than anything else, watching the running figure in front of him put on a burst of speed. 

There was a certain guilty pleasure to be taken in sensing his fear, although when Yassen saw him smack painfully into the metal bollard he did wince on Alex’s behalf. 

The money had been more apology for that than anything else, although Yassen had also appreciated the opportunity to go through Alex’s phone.

He wondered if he’d scared Alex off for good when he pulled up outside the house at the same time as the night before to find it all in darkness. It was probably for the best. There was no reason on earth to suppose Alex would repeat the previous night’s display, and it was probably better for both of them that he didn’t. 

And then the light went on in the living room, and Yassen stiffened. After a moment Alex could be seen standing in the window, looking out into the road. Yassen stayed perfectly still, although the chances of him being seen were slim. The streetlight he was parked under was no longer working, for one thing.

Alex disappeared again. Yassen counted slowly to a hundred then got out of the car, slipping noiselessly across to the window. He wasn’t sure what to expect – frankly anything from an armed police presence to a note taped to the window reading ‘fuck off’, but no, Alex was once more sprawled on the sofa, in the process of unzipping his trousers. 

–

Alex was drunk. He’d managed to make himself something to eat, but he’d continued drinking while he was eating, and now everything was a bit blurry round the edges. He’d needed something to take the edge off the fear, and then once he’d made his mind up, the self-consciousness, but he had to admit he might have slightly over-medicated.

Still, it meant he no longer had any qualms about getting his cock out in front of the glaring black expanse of the window. He wondered, briefly, if any of the neighbours could see in, but judged that the sofa was far enough back that only someone actually standing in the tiny front garden would be able to see him. 

Was there anyone there? The thought of being watched both scared him and turned him on. 

Uncoordinated, he slumped back on the cushions and clumsily unfastened his jeans. He was already hard, the thought of this alone had been enough to see to that, the fear only giving it an extra edge. He rubbed a hand over his boxers, grasping himself through the cotton and bucking into it, lifting his hips and splaying his knees.

Alex didn’t think he was going to last long tonight, he felt hot and prickly all over, his arousal tinged with impatience. He wondered what it would be like, to have someone do this for him, _to_ him. 

Other than a certain amount of haphazard snogging at parties before his uncle had died he had no real experience, and that had all been with girls. The heavy underlying knowledge that what he really liked was boys he’d kept a firmly private secret, to be examined so far only in the privacy of his own room and occasionally laptop. 

The thought of an older, more experienced man taking charge of him was dangerously alluring, but even drunk Alex was realistic enough to know the reality would likely be different. The kind of man who was interested in spying on a teenage boy was hardly going to be life-partner material. 

Still, the idea was going to be enough to get him off and Alex hastily pulled down his underwear, his cock slapping up against his belly as it sprang free from the waistband. Alex had the belated thought that he should possibly have made the stripping part sexier, but it was too late now.

He took himself in hand and started up a sloppy, ragged stroke. Who was it out there? Had he done this last night, while watching or afterwards? Was he thinking about doing to Alex what Alex was picturing being done to him? 

Alex stifled a moan, pushing into his hand. He’d had crushes on boys his age, and crushes on filmstars and sports stars, but the thought of having actual sex with an actual man was equal parts terrifying and thrilling. No schoolboy fumbling, but someone who knew what they were doing, someone who could make him feel good. Or would they hurt him? Would it hurt anyway? Probably. He didn’t think he’d mind. 

Alex’s fingers were wet, hand sliding up his cock, thumbing over the head. His mouth was hanging open, his eyes closed, seeking the final push he needed to send him over the edge. His mind drifted back to his thoughts of earlier, about getting into the car that had been following him.

Would he ever have been seen again?

Would anyone care if he wasn’t?

Maybe it would make a few people sorry if his body was found in a ditch, naked and abused. 

Alex sucked in a heaving breath. This wasn’t the sort of thing you were supposed to get off to. Was it? But the pressure was there in his groin now, his mind throwing out random pictures like a spooling public information film, a car door hanging open, a shoe on the ground, a handprint on a window.

What would the reports say?  
‘Alex had been drinking that night.’  
‘Alex was last seen getting into a stranger’s car.’  
‘Evidence of multiple sexual assaults.’

“Fuck.” Alex choked it out, climaxing so hard his hips lifted right off the sofa, fingers clenching round his dick almost painfully as he rode out his orgasm, come splattering all over his t-shirt. 

He collapsed in a wrung-out heap, shaking slightly. He was bathed in sweat and covered in his own spunk, and fuck that had felt good. 

He’d been breathing so hard his throat was dry, and as Alex reached for his glass his phone buzzed, and he picked it up. And stared. 

Somebody had venmo’d him another fifty quid. The sender’s account name was blank, which was weird, but before he’d had time to puzzle this out his phone buzzed again in his hand and he nearly dropped it. It was a text, from an unknown number.

_Next time, take your clothes off._

-


	3. Chapter 3

It had been sent on the spur of the moment, and driving back to the apartment that temporarily served as home Yassen considered what had prompted him to do it. He wasn’t given to spontaneous acts of recklessness, would hardly be alive today if he was. And while there was no danger as such in it – Alex would never be able to trace the money or the mobile number, and if he tried to reply to the text it would bounce back as undeliverable – it had been an uncharacteristically impulsive thing to do. 

Someone who had the capacity to make him act without thinking could be dangerous. The safest thing for Yassen to do would be to take the job he’d been putting off and leave town entirely. Even if he stayed, what then? Was he really going to go back the following night on the off chance the boy did as he asked? It would be sordid and demeaning for both of them.

Yassen’s erection, on the other hand, suggested the answer was an obstinate yes.

He ignored it until he was safely locked in the flat, and only then allowed himself the luxury of running a hand over himself. 

He wasted no time feeling guilty. If Alex was old enough to jerk off for an audience he was old enough to cope with the knowledge the audience would be doing it as well. 

It wasn’t as if he was going to touch him. 

Yassen stripped off his clothes and walked into the shower. The image of Alex was easy to summon, all gangly limbs and rumpled clothing. There was a strange innocence to his displays that Yassen found appealing. He’d worked jobs that had taken him into the seediest underbelly of the sex trade, and he’d seen things that would never in a million years have turned him on, but Alex – there was just something about him. 

He curled his hand around his cock, tugging slowly, savouring the sensation along with the knowledge that Alex was his to command. He should resist the urge to send any more messages, but the money almost guaranteed continued compliance, as long as he wanted it.

He’d done a little more digging into Alex’s circumstances, not wanting to be surprised one night by a returning and indignant guardian. Discovered the electronic paper trail that had ended with nobody being assigned to him. Hovered his finger over the keystroke that would complete the order, then removed his hand and closed the page. Alex could remain at his disposal for a while longer. 

The records had also revealed that while Alex was receiving a monthly allowance he would have no access to his inheritance from his uncle or father until he was eighteen. The appointed guardian would have been able to access other funds, but – there was no-one in place, and for reasons known only to himself Alex didn’t appear to have said anything. 

Yassen found he could understand that. 

He also realised how much more appealing it would make the appearance of unexpected funds. 

What else could Alex be persuaded to do, Yassen wondered idly, closing his eyes and lifting his face into the shower spray as his hand moved a little faster. How much for his mouth? How much for the night?

Alex was young and inexperienced but that wasn’t a bad thing. He could be instructed. 

The thought of that was enough to make his dick throb in his hand and Yassen gave a low groan, pumping himself harder now, fast and rough. He pictured Alex spread out on the sofa again, this time with himself kneeling between his legs. Tried to imagine Alex’s expression. Would he be scared and angry? Or eager and willing? Would he struggle? 

Each of these were appealing in their own way, and Yassen lingered on each of them in turn, mentally filling Alex with load after load until he finally came for real in a thick white splatter across the dark tiles.

He rinsed away the traces, from the wall and from himself, and having thus successfully cleared his mind of Alex’s tempting distractions, went back to work.

–

Alex had put music on. It wasn’t so much for him to strip to as to blank out some of his thoughts. This was easier, if he didn’t think. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. It wasn’t like he was truly desperate for the money. It wasn’t even for the rush, really. Truth was, he was starting to feel a little soiled. 

But what was the alternative? Sit there staring at the walls? Drink himself to sleep? He’d lost all interest in the things he used to pass the time with, and he no longer had any friends or family to talk to. The only person in the world right now who was taking an interest in him was paying to watch him jack off, so he might as well.

He’d waited until the same time of night, put the light on and opened the blinds. 

Curtain up, he thought, going to sit on the sofa facing the window, fingers stuttering over the buttons of his shirt. He’d put his school shirt back on rather than a t-shirt, figuring it would look more interesting to remove. 

Alex wasn’t sure if his unseen patron – it sounded better in his head than stalker – was actually interested in seeing him strip, or just wanted to see him naked, but he figured the man might as well get his money’s worth.

He slipped the first button open, then worked slowly down through the rest before shrugging the shirt off and letting his hands fall to his belt. He was conscious of his pale skin and skinny shoulders, hardly jerk-off material he wouldn’t have thought. But then, he was learning that sometimes what got you off wasn’t what people expected.

He stood up and unbuckled his belt, unzipped his trousers and let them fall to the carpet, stepped out of them. He was already barefoot, and he paused for a second with his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his boxers, resisting the temptation to try and stare through the window, see if he could make out a figure on the other side.

Don’t think about it. He was no Cinderella and the man outside was no prince. Keeping reality at arm’s length was the only way to do this. 

He pulled down his underwear and kicked it off. Turned around and climbed back onto the sofa, giving the window a lingering view of his bare arse. He’d only been half-hard up to now, but suddenly this position on hands and knees, exposing himself in this different way made him stiffen. Started thinking about being taken from behind, about someone surprising him, creeping into the house without him hearing, the hand over his mouth, the rough arm around his waist, pulling him backwards, spearing into him. 

Alex was working his hard-on now, had hardly even noticed when he’d grabbed hold of himself. He turned round, dropping onto his back, fisting his cock lewdly at the window. 

“Is this what you want, you fucker?” he choked out, safe in the knowledge he couldn’t be heard through the glass and the music. “You want some of this?”

Anger felt good, his resentment at the world had been simmering so uselessly for so long with no tangible target that being able to let it boil over felt cathartic. There was finally someone to direct it at, someone who made him feel used, dirty, guilty. Someone who deserved his scorn. Someone who – oh God – made him harder than he’d ever thought possible. 

Cock pulsing in his hand, Alex finally came all over himself, making no attempt to flinch from the thick strings that painted him from face to navel. He fell back, hand still around his softening dick, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

On the table, his phone buzzed.

He didn’t bother picking it up.

–

The next couple of weeks were odd for Alex. He was feeling more and more like he was trapped in somebody else’s life, one he hadn’t been meant for. Everything felt increasingly grey. School lost more interest than ever, food seemed to be tasteless. The only time he felt alive was when he was exhibiting himself for his unseen audience. A few minutes of feeling like he was in control of something, dictating what someone else could watch, could feel. The all-too-brief flare of physical pleasure. 

But then the sordid come-down, the stickiness of his skin, the dirty clothes piling up, the laundry he couldn’t be bothered to do. 

Sometimes he stripped, sometimes he didn’t. There had been no more texts after the first, but the money pinged in each time, regardless of what he did. 

As a test, one night he did nothing, stayed upstairs, watched a film without registering a word of it. Sure enough, no payment. He wasn’t sure what it proved, other than that he really was being watched. He’d half hoped to provoke more contact, but his phone stayed obstinately silent. The following night, he’d stripped again.

Occasionally Alex thought he glimpsed him. An unremarkable looking white man, easily lost in a crowd, not tall, not fat, not bearded, never strikingly dressed – but seen too often to be a coincidence. It gave a nebulous shape to his fantasies, at least. 

One night Alex realised he literally hadn’t spoken to anyone for four whole days. Unable to stand the silence any longer he went to a pub, purposely choosing one he knew wouldn’t be frequented by anyone he knew. 

He had a fake ID ready in his pocket – originally made for him by Tom, and the thought was another aching band around his heart – but nobody asked to see it. Perhaps he looked older than his years, now. Or perhaps it was just that nobody cared. 

He’d been craving conversation, but the man at the bar who tried to strike one up with him set all of Alex’s alarm bells ringing. He wondered how someone watching him perform a sex act on himself could possibly feel less threatening than a man just asking his name and taking an interest, but his skin was suddenly crawling.

Alex cut him off, moved to a table and kept drinking. By the time he left some hours later he was unsteady on his feet and oblivious to his surroundings. Dangerously so, as he didn’t notice the man from the bar had followed him outside, was walking behind him, waiting for the darkest part of the route.

Neither man however, noticed the second shadow that left the pub behind them.

Alex, weaving his way drunkenly along the pavement headed into the series of narrow turns between brick walls that was a short-cut out to the main road. The man behind him sped up his pace. 

Two men followed Alex into the alley. Only one came out. A shadow that followed him the rest of the way home, until he was safely indoors.

–

There comes a breaking point. Sometimes it’s loud, accompanied by screaming and sobbing and things being smashed. Sometimes it’s more subdued. Sometimes a part under stress just quietly snaps. No histrionics, no public meltdown. Just the sudden knowledge that it is no longer tenable to continue.

Alex waited until gone midnight. No floorshow tonight, the blinds remained closed, the lights off. He slipped out of the house without even bothering to put on a jacket. There was no point. 

Battersea Bridge was within easy walking distance. Traffic was light, with nobody to notice as he climbed over the railing. It seemed pitiful defence against this sort of thing, Alex thought. They should make it safer for people.

Alex stood on the parapet, looking down into the black water. It seemed further down, now that he was on this side of the railing. He supposed that was good, in a way. If the impact of hitting the water knocked him out, he wouldn’t know about the drowning part. 

He didn’t even have to jump. The ledge was so narrow all he had to do was let go, and gravity would do the rest. Somehow though, despite having made up his mind, Alex’s fingers were still firmly clamped to the metalwork. 

He tried to empty his mind. What was the alternative? Going home? Going back to his meaningless life? Better to draw a line under it. It wasn’t like anyone would miss him. Alex spared a fleeting thought for his anonymous watcher. He’d have to find someone else to spy on, now.

There was so little traffic at this time of night that the car pulling quietly to the kerb behind him drew Alex’s attention. He frowned. Some bloody do-gooder presumably. He really should get on with it. He glanced round, checking that nobody was coming towards him, and froze as he recognised the car.

It wasn’t surprising really. It had been parked opposite his house often enough. Or his school. Or occasionally followed him slowly down the road.

Alex could dimly make out the shape of a man behind the wheel. He made no move to get out, or to approach Alex, or dissuade him from his actions, but after Alex had been staring at him for several seconds, he did lean over and push open the passenger side door.

An invitation. Alex now had a choice. Leap to a watery grave, or – what? Get horribly murdered and dumped in an alley, probably. 

On the plus side one of those didn’t involve getting wet and cold, and he had to admit to a certain curiosity. The opportunity to finally see the man who’d been watching him all this time. Plus, it took things out of his own hands. If the man wanted to kill him, at least Alex no longer had to make that final leap himself. 

He climbed back over the railing and approached the car warily, sliding into the passenger seat and pulling the door closed after him.

-


	4. Chapter 4

The seats were black leather, and more comfortable than they looked. Alex stared at the man behind the wheel, who regarded him silently in turn with an intensity that made his skin prickle.

He was, in the end, younger than Alex had feared, and a lot better looking if you ignored the rather alarming scar. 

A car coming up behind swerved widely around them and hooted. You weren’t supposed to stop on the bridge, and Alex’s heart sped up a little as the driver put the car into gear and pulled away. Too late to jump out again now. 

“Where are we going?” Alex asked. He supposed it didn’t matter, but it was something to say. 

“Where would you like to go?”

His voice came as a surprise, low and calm and with a definite accent.

“You’re not British.”

The man glanced across at him and conceded a slight smile. “Russian.”

“Oh. Are you a spy?” Alex gave a nervous laugh, then screwed up his face. “Sorry. Cliche attack. Of course you’re not a spy. Ignore me.”

This earned him a slightly wider smile. “Out of the mouths of babes,” he muttered.

“I’m Alex. But you probably knew that.”

A tilt of the head in acknowledgement. “Yassen.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” said Alex dryly. “At last.”

“So where _do_ you want to go?”

Alex blinked. Apparently it had been a genuine question. Maybe he wasn’t going to end the night in a dumpster after all.

“I don’t mind. Not home.” He stared blankly out at the buildings they were passing, then looked back at Yassen. “Your place,” he said, on impulse.

This earned him a raised eyebrow and nothing more, but Yassen kept driving and after a while Alex relaxed into the seat, even pulling on his seatbelt. He was conscious he was staring, but Yassen didn’t seem to mind, or at least hadn’t objected. Here, finally, was the man who’d been following him. The man who’d been watching him. 

Alex felt a flush of heat, and wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or excitement. This was the man he’d been showing off for, performing for, exposing himself so intimately to. What did he think? What did he want? The possible – no, probable – answer to that question made Alex shift restlessly in his seat. Getting into a stranger’s car was a stupid thing to do at the best of times. Getting into the car of a man who’d been watching you wank off for weeks was off the scale. 

It must have looked like an open invitation. Had Alex really thought he wouldn’t eventually accept? 

They finally pulled to a halt in the car park of an expensive apartment block, and Yassen looked at him properly for the first time since Alex had got into the car. 

“My place,” he said evenly. “Coming up?”

Alex swallowed. To be offered the option to walk away, even now – it surprised him. He realised so many of his fantasies concerning this man had involved being taken by force that the reality wasn’t quite what he’d expected. Still. There was little doubt what he’d be agreeing to if he went inside with him. He nodded.

Yassen let them in to the building and took Alex up in the lift to the top floor. The apartment they walked into was large, clean and stylish, and the windows had a panoramic view of the night-time city. 

Yassen took off his jacket and led Alex into the bedroom where he sat down on the bed, looking up at him. 

“Come here,” he said quietly, patting his lap.

Mouth dry, Alex walked over and let Yassen draw him down until he was straddling him. This close he could feel the man’s erection, was practically sitting on it and couldn’t stop his intake of breath.

“Alright?” Yassen’s voice was still gentle, his hands stroking down Alex’s back. Alex shivered and nodded, breathing shakily through his mouth.

“Have you done this before?”

Alex swallowed. The urge was to lie, but the sensible thing – he shook his head.

Yassen nodded. “That’s alright. That’s good. You understand? What we’re going to do?”

Alex nodded again. He wanted to say something, but words seemed to have deserted him. He was scared, but he was turned on too, and more than anything the feeling of being seen like this was intoxicating. That this man – whoever he was, and for whatever reason – had chosen him, wanted him – when nobody else did. How could Alex say no to that, whatever the consequences were?

Pressed snugly against Yassen’s dick, Alex was getting stiff himself now, and Yassen smiled as he felt it. He tilted Alex’s chin up to look at him, and leaned in. 

Yassen’s mouth was warm over his, and Alex surprised himself with how eagerly he returned the kiss. Somehow he hadn’t expected this, and had a moment of worry that his lack of practice would be noticeable, but Yassen didn’t seem to mind. His tongue was inside Alex’s mouth, and his hands were cupping his bottom and drawing him closer and suddenly Alex was hard as all hell. 

After a while Yassen sat back, took hold of the hem of Alex’s t-shirt and lifted it off over his head. He then unbuttoned his own shirt, Alex’s eyes fixed on his emerging chest. There was a scar above one nipple, and Alex had reached out to touch it before he’d thought about what he was doing. He drew his hand back, embarrassed, but it just drew an amused look from Yassen. 

“You can touch me as much as you like,” he offered, and drew Alex into another kiss, this time chest to bare chest. His hands were back on the curve of Alex’s backside, and Alex realised he was rocking them against each other. He made a stifled noise in the back of his throat and Yassen broke off the kiss a second time to run a hand over the bulge of Alex’s erection. 

“Let’s get you out of the rest, shall we?” he murmured, unfastening Alex’s flies. His hand was warm as he stroked Alex through his boxers, easing them down until the tip was exposed.

Rather than immediately touching him, Yassen then mirrored his actions on himself, unzipping his own trousers and taking out his cock. Alex bit his lip, eyes wide. He knew perfectly well what was going to happen soon, and fear and anticipation was churning in his stomach. 

Yassen reached out, took hold of Alex’s hand and drew it down towards his groin, deliberately curling Alex’s fingers around his erection. 

“Have you ever touched another man?”

Alex shook his head, not trusting his voice. The feel of Yassen’s cock under his hand was fascinating, warm and firm and thicker than his own. Without being asked he started to stroke him, and Yassen swallowed a delighted laugh. 

“Well aren’t you a find.” 

He helped Alex out of the rest of his clothes and pushed back the duvet, indicating for Alex to crawl into the centre. 

Alex did as he was told, watching wide-eyed as Yassen stepped out of the rest of his own clothes and joined Alex on the bed. His cock was sticking up in front of him and Alex couldn’t tear his eyes away. He braced himself for whatever might happen next, but all Yassen did was lie down next to him and hold his arm out invitingly. 

Alex wriggled closer, and as soon as he was within range Yassen drew him in, Alex catching his breath as Yassen’s naked body pressed up against his own.

Yassen smoothed Alex’s hair back from his forehead. “Don’t be afraid. I don’t mean to hurt you,” he promised quietly. “I’m going to take what I want, but I will try and make it good for you. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Alex whispered back hoarsely. 

Yassen sat up again and took condoms and lube from a drawer in the night-stand. Alex shifted nervously. Yassen might have promised he would try not to hurt him, but Alex didn’t know yet if the man’s promises were worth anything and also that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to hurt anyway, however careful he was. 

Alex wondered what would happen if he tried to back out now. Would Yassen let him go? Or – his dick lurched embarrassingly at the thought of the alternative. Fuck.

“Come here.” Yassen’s hands were on him now, parting his legs gently but firmly. “Lie back.” 

Alex did as he was told, shunting his hips forward for good measure which earned him another of those low approving laughs. Alex found he was already craving approval and each time he got it, he felt a curl of warmth snake through his belly. 

He forced himself to stay quiet when the first finger invaded him, swallowing down the urge to cry out. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it did feel weird. Part of him just wanted to get this over with, but he also knew if he could only relax into it there was a chance it could be more than just something to be endured.

True to his word Yassen took his time, until the sheet was messy with smeared lube and he had three fingers working inside Alex. By now Alex was wide-eyed and gasping, and once he started trying to press down on his fingers Yassen judged he was ready. He wiped his hands and rolled on a condom, making sure Alex got a good view of what he was doing. 

Alex held his breath, his body tensing up again automatically even as he told himself to relax. 

When Yassen pushed inside him for the first time it hurt, more than he’d expected. The shocked noise that escaped him was sharp with pain but Yassen didn’t stop. He wasn’t rough, but he continued to thrust deeper inside with a controlled strength that proved when he’d said he was going to take what he wanted from Alex, he was entirely capable of doing so, however much patience he’d shown.

“Fuck.” Alex gritted his teeth and fisted his hands into the sheet below.

“You’re doing good.” The murmured encouragement came as a surprise, and Alex opened his eyes. Yassen was watching him, framed by Alex’s legs crooked over his arms. “Really good.”

Alex gave him a shaky smile. Was he? He didn’t think so, but he appreciated the sentiment. He realised he’d unclenched slightly too, and shot Yassen another, slightly more suspicious look. Yassen just returned his gaze levelly, still fucking into him with a slow, regular rhythm. 

The first few seconds had been the worst, and Alex was gradually finding it easier to bear. It was strange more than anything, this feeling of being filled so full, of the thrust and slide as Yassen moved inside him.

I’m actually having sex, Alex thought suddenly, almost laughing. Fucking hell. 

Minute by minute it was starting to feel better too. Still a little uncomfortable, but there was a spreading warmth inside him now that spoke of an untapped potential for much better things just out of reach.

Unconsciously he tried to spread his legs a little wider, pushing down as he had onto Yassen’s fingers. Yassen noticed the change in him and nodded briefly, shifting his position until he was lying more on top of him, Alex’s legs wrapped around his hips. This angle meant he could thrust deeper still and Alex sucked in a surprised breath.

“Fuck, I – oh God.” There’d been a moment of renewed discomfort but that had been so quickly followed by a burst of such sheer spine-melting pleasure that Alex nearly swallowed his tongue.

Yassen started moving faster, fucking him in earnest now that he was sure Alex was into it, but still with that controlled strength that suggested he could keep this up for hours if he wanted.

Alex didn’t think he was going to last hours, personally. His breath was coming as little stuttered hiccups and his cock was an aching heaviness rubbing against Yassen’s belly. He reached out, his hand tangling in Yassen’s hair, pulling him down. 

Yassen obligingly let himself be pulled, finding Alex’s mouth and kissing him passionately. Alex’s lips were soft and pliant and not for the first time Yassen wondered what they’d look like around his cock. 

He hadn’t been sure Alex would want to be kissed – hell he hadn’t been sure Alex would want to be fucked – but so far the boy had gone along willingly – enthusiastically, even – with everything he’d tried. It was certainly a pleasant surprise, and Yassen was already speculating whether this could be more than a one-night stand. 

There were dangers in entanglements, and taking advantage of a boy this young came with potential complications of its own, but the almost innocent way Alex was letting him do this was such a turn-on that Yassen knew he wouldn’t turn down the chance of a second bite at this particular cherry.

Alex’s eyes were wide and Yassen could feel him quivering underneath him and guessed he was close. He was impressed he’d lasted this long, he’d half expected Alex to spill his load the first time he’d gone deep.

There were tears beading his eyelashes, but Yassen judged from the way Alex was still pushing down onto his cock that they were from overwhelmed exertion more than anything else. Alex was inches from coming apart and it was a moment to be savoured. He’d started off tense and fearful and now he was loose-limbed, slack-mouthed and on the teetering cusp of orgasm.

“Alex?”

“Please.” He sounded ragged and desperate. “Please.”

Yassen shifted position again, making space to fit his hand between them and wrapping it around Alex’s cock. The touch alone was almost enough, he’d barely stroked him twice before Alex let out a strangled moan and came all over his chest.

Yassen fucked him through it, then let himself find his own completion before Alex began to find it all too much. It was easily done, Alex had brought him to the edge just as effectively as a more experienced man. His young tight body was a dream to fuck, and Yassen came hard, burying his face in the curls of damp blond hair plastered to Alex’s neck. 

He pulled out carefully, aware that Alex whimpered as he did so, and disposed of the condom before slipping out to wash his hands and come back with a flannel and towel. He cleaned Alex up and wiped the worst of everything off the sheet, and only then sat back down and lifted Alex up into his arms. 

“Are you with us?” Yassen enquired, and Alex managed a weak huff of laughter. “Yes? I haven’t broken you?”

“Only slightly,” Alex mumbled, and Yassen smiled. 

“Good.” He kissed him on the forehead. “Does it hurt?” Alex nodded and Yassen pursed his lips. “Bad?”

This time Alex shook his head, lolling against Yassen’s arm exhaustedly. 

“Hmmn. I’m not sure which end I’ve broken,” Yassen mused and Alex gave a hiccup of laughter. 

“I’m okay.” 

Yassen nodded. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to move yet. You did so well.” Alex nestled against him with a hum of gratitude, and Yassen hugged him close with a faint air of surprise. He’d been prepared for Alex to want to leave, or even to demand payment. He wasn’t at all sure he’d expected Alex to just take him at his word and snuggle into him so trustingly. 

He lay there quietly for a while, Alex in his arms, until finally Alex stirred and stretched and sat up with a wince. He still looked dazed, and Yassen slipped out of the bed again and disappeared back into the living room for a moment. 

Alex heard the clink of a bottle and he came back carrying two crystal glasses of a clear liquid.

“Vodka?” Alex guessed, as Yassen handed him one.

“Slivovitz. It’ll make you feel better.” 

Alex sipped it cautiously, and just managed not to cough. But he’d necked enough rough whisky lately that the burn in his throat came as a pleasure, and he drank the rest down eagerly.

“You should savour it more,” Yassen chided, but he didn’t look annoyed. Instead he shrugged and threw the rest of his own back in one, settling back against the pillows and holding his arm out to Alex again. 

Alex settled against him readily, resting his head on Yassen’s shoulder.

“You know, you’re surprisingly nice for a creepy stalker,” Alex murmured sleepily. 

Yassen gave a quiet huff of laughter. “I promised myself I would only watch,” he sighed. “That I wouldn’t touch you. But in the end the temptation was too great.” His smile was both regretful and guiltily satisfied, like a cat who’s just fucked the canary.

“Would you really have jumped?” he asked quietly, stroking Alex’s hair. 

“Honestly? I don’t know.” Alex looked at him. “In a way it feels like I did,” he whispered. “I just never expected anyone to catch me.”

“Alex.” Yassen gathered him close again and kissed him. Alex wound his arms around him and closed his eyes. There was definitely a level to this that he was trying very hard not to think about, but at the same time he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had hugged him at all, let alone offered this much unquestioning comfort. 

He wondered how much Yassen knew about his circumstances, if anything. The fact he hadn’t asked any questions suggested he might, but Alex was just glad he hadn’t had to explain anything. 

“So what happens now?” Alex felt the risk of ending the night being murdered had considerably lessened, although he wasn’t entirely confident. Yassen had been a lot more solicitous of him than he’d expected, but there was still an air of quiet menace about the man. Alex sensed Yassen’s controlled manner hid a definite capacity for violence and still wondered what might have happened if he hadn’t been quite as willing to lie down with him.

“What do you want to happen?” Yassen asked lazily, fingers trailing over Alex’s bare shoulder.

Alex gave a breathy laugh. “Wish you’d stop making me take the decisions.”

Yassen gave him a speculative look. “You want me to take away your choices? That’s a dangerous offer to make.”

Alex swallowed, but didn’t protest. Yassen watched the movement of his throat and didn’t quite lick his lips but Alex definitely saw a brief flash of tongue. 

“Would you want that?” Yassen asked quietly. “Would you like that?”

“I don’t know,” Alex mumbled, not really knowing what it would even mean, but Yassen was realising now how long Alex had been fending for himself, and how hard it must have been for him. How alluring the idea might be, of having someone tell him what to do for once. How compliant it would make him. How biddable. 

The idea was starting to make him hard again, and he pulled Alex against him, rubbing his stiffening cock against Alex’s belly. Alex made a startled noise, but he was already instinctively lifting his face to be kissed.

Yassen did so with approval, enjoying the feeling of Alex’s slim body laid out beneath him again so unprotestingly. He could feel Alex getting hard again himself and Yassen sucked a dark red mark onto the base of his throat, possessive and greedy. 

Alex was breathing fast now, perhaps expecting Yassen to fuck him a second time but Yassen held back, not wanting to frighten him off by hurting him too much too soon. He wanted Alex to come to this willingly. It would tie him to it so much more effectively. 

Instead he continued thrusting against Alex’s groin, mouthing at his hot skin and enjoying the increasingly desperate little breathy gasps Alex was giving. Alex was jerking spasmodically against him, chasing friction of his own and so turned on by Yassen’s full weight pressing down on him that he hardly knew what to do with himself. 

The thing that finally pushed him over the edge was the feeling of Yassen coming all over him, a sudden wet spurt of warmth between their rocking bodies. Alex abruptly couldn’t hold on and added his own release to the mess, bucking and groaning helplessly.

Yassen’s kisses afterwards grounded him, and the arms around him felt secure and comforting. Dazed and shaky, Alex clung to him instinctively, unspeakably grateful for this unlooked-for softness where he’d only expected to be used. 

Yassen cleaned them both up again and turned out the light, settling Alex against him under the duvet. 

“Okay?” he whispered. Alex nodded against him, and Yassen gave a soft laugh. “The bathroom is the door behind, if you need it at any point. Don’t be afraid to go if you have to.”

Physically and emotionally drained by his evening, Alex still smiled in the dark. “Thank you.”

“Other people’s houses, you know?” Yassen murmured. “It’s always weird.”

Alex couldn’t stop the giggle that slipped out. After everything that had happened, with that one vague and sleepy musing the man suddenly seemed much more human and Alex relaxed against him. In minutes, he was asleep.

-


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning Alex woke sore and disorientated at finding himself in a strange bed. Yassen was already up, he could hear him moving around in the living space, and Alex had a moment of relief that he hadn’t expected sex as soon as he woke up. Although the thought of being woken by Yassen on top of him, already inside him, was certainly one to be filed away for later private consideration. 

Alex slid off the bed with a wince and went into the bathroom. There was a stack of clean towels on a shelving unit and Alex gratefully took a shower, letting the hot water revive him slightly. Once safely dressed, he took a deep breath and walked out of the bedroom. Yassen was standing looking out the window with a cup of coffee in his hand. 

He looked round when Alex came to stand next to him, and to Alex’s surprise ruffled his damp hair. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” Alex nodded, not quite sure what to say, but Yassen just nodded back, and Alex realised any normal boy would probably have been having a breakdown at this point, after a suicide attempt and sex with a stranger. Maybe Yassen had expected him to be in bits, once reality hit. Instead, his stomach rumbled.

“Hungry? I’ll buy you breakfast if you want.”

“That’d be – yeah. Great.”

Alex followed him downstairs, wondering if this was the end, if he was being dismissed now that Yassen had got what he wanted. Or maybe Alex hadn’t been good enough, maybe Yassen had been disappointed in him. It gave him a hollow feeling inside that had nothing to do with hunger pangs.

Yassen took him to a cafe round the corner and told him to order what he wanted. Ordered himself another coffee and sat there patiently while Alex demolished a full English.

“So – ” Alex sipped his second mug of tea more slowly than the first, feeling substantially better now that he was full of food and not actually hungover for what felt like the first time in ages. Yassen hadn’t said a word while he was eating, seemingly content just to watch him. Alex figured there were worse things to get off on. 

“So?”

“Do I get to see you again?”

Yassen tilted his head, half-smiling. “Certainly, if you want to.”

Alex hesitated, then nodded. 

“Then I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

Offering nothing more concrete than that, but once Alex was done with his breakfast Yassen drove him home, dropping him off outside his house so he could go in and change for school. He was going to be late, but not too badly.

Sitting in class, Alex found it hard to concentrate. His thoughts kept sliding back to the night before, and the potential night ahead. Would Yassen want him again so soon?

He glanced round at his classmates. If he’d felt different from them before that was amplified now by a thousand. He had the sudden thought that being able to boast you’d lost your virginity lost something of the cachet if you had to follow it up with the admission it was because you’d let a stranger fuck you up the arse, and snorted with laughter.

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Mr Rider?” enquired the teacher tiredly. 

Alex was abruptly conscious of curious stares being directed his way. It was a long time since anyone had heard him laugh. He schooled his face quickly. This was very much something he could never share with anyone.

“No. Sorry.”

He could feel himself fading back out of everyone’s interest, as an almost tangible sensation. He didn’t care. He had the interest now of someone better. Someone who wanted him.

Was Yassen thinking about him, he wondered? Alex realised he didn’t know the first thing about him - didn’t know what the man did for a living, hell he didn’t even know his second name. Didn’t know if Yassen was his real name either for that matter, although it didn’t feel like something you’d pick for an alias. 

The question as to whether he’d been on Yassen’s mind appeared to be answered when Alex came out of school to find Yassen’s car was waiting for him. He got into the passenger seat with only the briefest of hesitations.

Yassen looked him over assessingly and apparently liked what he saw because he gave a nod of approval and started the engine.

“You don’t say much, do you?” Alex sighed, leaning back against the headrest and watching him as he drove.

“What do you want me to say?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. Normal stuff.”

“You think this is normal?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, say creepy stuff then! Weirdo predator stuff. Just say something.” 

Yassen gave him a side-long glance, but there was the suggestion of a smile on his lips. 

“You think that’s what I am?”

“I think by definition that’s what you are.” Alex slumped deeply into the seat and put his feet up on the dash. 

“Does that make you a victim, or a slut?”

The question came casually, but it had the unexpected sting of a slap. Alex blinked. 

“What, I can’t be both?” he countered after a second. 

Yassen gave a low laugh. “I could always just take you home. If that’s what you want.”

The threat – and Alex was faintly shocked to recognise that was how it felt – made him shudder. To be left alone again in that empty house – he knew it wouldn’t be long before he was back on the bridge. Regardless of what else this was, Yassen represented human contact. Comfort, even. However fucked up it might be.

So Alex said nothing, and was silently relieved when Yassen drove them to his apartment rather than back towards Chelsea.

Yassen let them inside and Alex didn’t know if he was startled or not when Yassen led him straight into the bedroom. Yassen’s hands were already unfastening Alex’s trousers, pulling them down along with his underwear before unzipping his own fly with an unseemly haste. 

Alex found himself pushed face down on the bed with his school trousers round his ankles and Yassen on top of him, his cock already between Alex’s thighs. 

He squirmed, fighting down panic. He didn’t really mean to resist, but the reality of being taken so unceremoniously was a fearful weight in his mind, the anticipation of pain momentarily outweighing the promise of pleasure. 

To his relief Yassen didn’t simply force his way in dry, but after a few speculative thrusts between Alex’s legs and a biting kiss nuzzled in between his hair and his shirt collar Yassen sat up again and proceeded to roll on a condom. Alex lay still, sweat beading between his shoulderblades, arms thrown above his head, constricted by the tightness of his shirt, legs pinned by Yassen’s weight and the tangle of his own clothes. 

A wet finger came to rest on his hole and Alex jumped, feeling the silent laugh this provoked as a brief tremor against his thighs. He bit down on his lip, willing himself not to cry out as the finger proceeded to explore him, working him open with a thick glob of lube. It was a cursory attempt, but better than nothing, and it wasn’t long before Alex felt it replaced by the head of Yassen’s sheathed cock, also slick with lube.

This time Alex couldn’t prevent the whimper that escaped him when Yassen pushed inside. He was still sensitive from yesterday and the feeling of the thick shaft stretching him open was almost too much.

Without waiting for him to acclimatise Yassen just started thrusting with an impatient urgency he’d held back from the night before and Alex screwed his eyes shut and tried to remember how to breathe. 

It wasn’t agony by any means, in fact every second it was feeling better and better. He screwed his hands into the bedclothes and tried to concentrate on the pleasure rather than the pain. And the pleasure was there now, coming in waves every time Yassen thrust into him. Alex found himself trying to spread his legs wider, pushing back onto Yassen’s cock, gasping air into his lungs. 

Yassen sped up, a last frenzy of frantic, snapping strokes that pushed both of them over the edge in barely any time at all.

Alex cried out as he came, spasming around him, shock and pleasure making him dizzy.

Yassen pulled out and flopped to one side, breathing hard. Alex turned to face him, panting shallowly, his school shirt stuck to his belly with his own semen. As he moved a fresh twinge speared through him, and he let out a quietly pained noise of protest. 

Yassen reached out, gathered him closer. “Sore?” 

Alex nodded, and Yassen kissed him gently, on the forehead and then the lips. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have done that again so soon. But I’ve been thinking about you all day, thinking about doing that, and I couldn’t hold back another second.” He gave Alex an apologetic smile. “You’re bad for my self-control, you know that?”

Alex gave him a shaky smile, flattered despite himself. There was something about being wanted that badly, especially by a man like Yassen. He wasn’t just some seedy stalker, he had an expensive car and flat and clothes. He could have had anyone, and he’d chosen Alex. Alex, that the rest of the world had brushed aside as nothing more than an inconvenience. 

That was worth a certain amount of soreness, Alex reflected, although he was grateful for the fact that Yassen didn’t expect him to move just yet. Yassen seemed content to lie there for a while with Alex in his arms, clothes still in disarray, enjoying the afterglow and letting Alex snuggle into him in search of comfort. 

After a while though Yassen sat up. “Come on. We should clean you up. Get you something to eat, huh?” 

Alex couldn’t prevent the wince as he climbed off the bed, and Yassen looked him over critically. He said nothing, but he accompanied Alex into the bathroom and helped him undress. 

The shower was a big walk-in cubicle behind a glass screen, and Yassen quickly stripped himself and followed Alex in. Alex was secretly grateful for the fact he could lean into Yassen’s arms and pretend it was for reasons other than feeling genuinely unsteady.

Yassen picked up a clean flannel and started to gently wash Alex all over. It felt nice, and Alex hummed his approval. He could stand being roughly used if it meant getting this kind of intimacy afterwards, he thought. 

Yassen’s ministrations lead with a certain inevitability to his groin, and Alex leaned back against his chest as Yassen’s flannel-covered hand rubbed his dick, stroking him over and over until Alex started getting hard again.

“Mmmn, look at this,” Yassen murmured in his ear, making him laugh. “Somebody likes that.”

Alex let his head fall back onto Yassen’s shoulder, letting the other man effectively hold him up while he played with him. At some point he’d dropped the wash-cloth and was just blatantly stroking him now, while Alex wriggled pleasurably under the sensations of warm hands and warm water and warm kisses on his neck.

Alex was just thinking that another minute and he’d be close to coming when Yassen took his hand away. He looked up, ready to protest, but Yassen guided him back a step and dropped to his knees. 

Alex caught his breath. He’d been vaguely prepared for Yassen to demand that he suck him off at some point, but even in his most lurid fantasies he’d never expected Yassen to offer it _first_. 

Yassen leaned in and Alex gave a quiet groan as he took him into his mouth. Yassen’s tongue was hot and talented and this felt better than he’d ever imagined. He wondered dimly what the etiquette was – was he allowed to push greedily between the lips that were working him so beautifully, was he supposed to warn when he was about to come? 

Yassen solved the first part of his dilemma by reaching up to wrap his hands around Alex’s slim waist, holding him firmly in position while continuing to suckle on him. The second part solved itself when Alex suddenly blew his load without warning, spilling into Yassen’s mouth with a convulsive shudder following a particularly lascivious movement of his tongue.

“Shit. Sorry.” Alex leaned on the tiled wall for support, relieved that Yassen didn’t look at all annoyed. He sat back on his heels licking his lips and swallowing deliberately. 

“You’re delicious,” he murmured in a low voice, getting to his feet and capturing Alex’s mouth in a kiss so deep he could taste himself on Yassen’s tongue.

Shutting off the water he wrapped Alex in a fluffy towel and dried himself off vigorously. Alex followed him back into the bedroom still swathed in the towel and sat down gingerly on the bed. He lifted up his soiled school shirt and made a face. He could hardly put it back on.

“There are some clothes in the wardrobe for you,” Yassen said casually, putting his trousers back on. Alex looked up in surprise. “I picked a few things up for you. Just in case.” He pulled a clean shirt on and walked out, leaving Alex to investigate.

Neatly folded on a shelf Alex found a pair of jeans and a pair of sweatpants, a pack of boxer shorts, a pack of socks, three t-shirts and a hoodie. They were in muted blues and greens and blacks, and from places like Hollister and Jack Wills. These ‘few things’ had cost a lot more than fifty quid, Alex reflected, as he got dressed. The presence of several sets of underwear also spoke to the assumption he would be spending more than one night here. 

He padded out to find Yassen busy in the kitchenette.

“Were they okay?” Yassen asked, after a cursory glance at him.

“They’re great. Thank you. How did you know my size?”

“I have a good eye.”

Alex smiled, leaning against the counter and watching him. “You cook?”

“When I have time.”

“Cool.” 

“You want to make yourself useful, you can chop that salad,” Yassen remarked, nodding to the pile next to him.

“Salad’s the bit you pick off,” Alex smirked.

“Well, you can chop it before you pick it off,” Yassen retorted, and Alex picked up a knife. 

His first cut was almost his last, as the knife slid through the tomato like butter and nicked his finger. “Ow! Fuck.”

“What have you done?”

“Nothing. It’s just a scratch,” Alex mumbled around the finger stuck in his mouth. “Who the fuck has knives that sharp?”

“People who want to be able to cut things,” Yassen said exasperatedly. “Let me see.” He pulled Alex’s finger out of his mouth and examined it. “Hmmn. You’ll live. Do you want a plaster?”

Alex shook his head, wrapping a piece of kitchen roll around it instead.

“I’ll have to take you home after we’ve eaten,” Yassen said, turning back to the stove-top. “I need to be somewhere later tonight.”

“Oh. Right.” Alex nodded, trying for nonchalance. He’d assumed he’d be staying. Stupid. Yassen was using him for sex, not adopting him. 

Yassen caught the note of disappointment in his voice and eyed him curiously. He hadn’t expected Alex to be quite as up for all this as he was proving, especially since there had been no further suggestion of cash payments. 

The boy had struck him as a spiky loner, and Yassen had been quite prepared for him to panic when the faced with the consequences of his reckless exhibitionism. Instead he seemed almost desperate for the attention and scraps of affection and Yassen found he was simultaneously sympathetic and horribly turned on. Alex, he sensed, could easily be talked into letting him do anything he wanted to him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow though. Perhaps,” he said. “Time allowing.”

–


	6. Chapter 6

Alex was sitting alone at a table in the corner of the playground when he noticed the car gliding past the gates at lunchtime. It didn’t stop, but he took a quick look round and slipped out of the gates, jogging down the road after it. 

Round the corner and out of sight of the school, he discovered Yassen had stopped and jumped quickly into the passenger seat. 

“Hello.” Alex gave him a shy smile, feeling the blood rising in his cheeks. The impulse to follow him – he hadn’t even questioned it. 

“Hello again.” Yassen studied him, with a slight twist of the lips, as if he couldn’t quite believe his own impatience either. “How long do you have?”

Alex shrugged. “As long as you want.”

“I’d rather not draw undue attention to this by taking you out of school.”

“Oh. Then about twenty minutes.”

“Hmmn.” No time to take Alex somewhere. The car would have to do. 

Yassen drove a couple of blocks and down a cul-de-sac containing a disused row of garages. He slotted into an empty lot at the far end, hidden from view and overshadowed by ivy. Turned off the engine and unclipped his seatbelt. 

Alex followed suit, turning to him with nervous anticipation. He could see that Yassen already had an erection, and felt his own dick stirring in response.

With no further preliminaries Yassen unzipped his flies and took out his cock. “Suck me,” he directed.

He partly wanted to see how Alex would react. Would he baulk at it, would he protest? Yassen was slowly exploring Alex’s boundaries. So far, he hadn’t found any.

Sure enough, Alex bent obediently over his lap. 

With a shiver of excitement as much at the thought of them being seen as anything, Alex opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the head of Yassen’s cock until the weight of him was resting on his tongue. He wasn’t sure how far in he could take him – initial experimentation suggested not very far – but after the last couple of nights he felt he was becoming familiar with Yassen’s foibles. 

He expected Alex to do what he was told, but at the same time never expected him to do more than he was able. He would therefore expect Alex to suck him off to the best of his ability, but he wouldn’t expect Alex to be able to go down on him like a pro. It was oddly reassuring, in a way. It took away Alex’s fear of fucking up, or getting it wrong. If he wasn’t doing something right, Yassen would quietly correct him, and if he was getting it right then he might get praised. And Alex found that he wanted to be praised, embarrassingly so. 

He concentrated on sucking around him as best he could, bracing himself with one hand on the edge of the seat and wrapping the other around the base of Yassen’s cock.

“Good boy,” Yassen murmured, stroking Alex’s hair. Alex was rigid himself by now, his hard-on straining in his pants. He allowed himself the hope that Yassen might return the favour. 

With Alex’s head bobbing industriously over his lap, working him with such sweet lips and tongue, Yassen found it easy to let his climax build quickly. The inexperience was part of the appeal, but Alex was making a surprisingly good attempt at it. He was a quick and willing learner, and seemed to have a genuine desire to continue this somewhat unexpected liaison.

He held himself still, resisting the urge to fuck Alex’s mouth and letting him set the pace. There would be opportunities for that later, it seemed. 

Yassen had outwardly held back on his building arousal so completely that when he came without warning in Alex’s mouth, it took him by surprise. His mouth was suddenly full of thick warm fluid, and he pulled back with it dribbling down his chin, looking panicky.

“It will be easiest if you swallow,” Yassen remarked, and Alex made a face, screwing up his resolve and swallowing it down. He felt that Yassen’s description of delicious was a long way from the truth, frankly. 

Alex scrubbed his face clean with his sleeve, then looked at the resulting white smear on his school jumper and winced. Yassen thumbed a stray drop from the corner of his mouth and sucked it off. 

“Was I okay?” Alex asked awkwardly. 

“You were perfect.” Yassen leaned over and kissed him, licking into his mouth with an air of satisfaction. Alex’s trousers were still tented over his neglected erection and Yassen let his hand come to rest on the bulge, rubbing him insistently while kissing him. 

Alex pushed into the touch and Yassen obliged him by increasing the pressure, moving his hand harder and faster until Alex suddenly went still with a little gulp of air. 

“Alex?”

“Shit.” 

Yassen moved his hand away, feeling the dampness under his fingertips and stifling a laugh. “Did you make a mess?”

“I just came in my pants,” Alex confessed weakly. “Ugh. Fuck.”

“Shame.” Yassen sat back and started the engine. 

“Can you take me home to change?”

“No time. You’re due back in school and I need to be somewhere. Looks like you’ll just have to sit in it. Sorry.”

He didn’t sound remotely sorry, and Alex gave him a hard look, wondering if he’d done it on purpose. He squirmed in his seat, the cloth sticking wetly to him. Great.

“Will I see you later?” 

“Perhaps.”

Alex rolled his eyes, and when he got out of the car again he slammed the door hard behind him. He didn’t look back until he was standing under the entrance porch, but the car had already gone. 

Alex made it through the first afternoon lesson in increasing discomfort, then escaped to the toilets and took his pants off in a cubicle, wiping himself clean with relief. He sighed. He hoped his flash of temper hadn’t made Yassen angry. Ian wouldn’t have let him get away with a display like that, and he experienced a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. 

His apprehension mounted when he left school at the end of the day and Yassen’s car was nowhere to be seen. Alex hung about for a bit, then walked home miserably. At least now he could have a shower, and that took his mind off things for a while. After that he decided to pack a bag with the things he’d need, just in case Yassen did come around for him. Clean school uniform, toothbrush, deodorant. 

He sat dolefully on the sofa, wondering what to do. It felt like his life had suddenly taken a very odd turn, but equally he didn’t want to revert back to what it had been before. Theoretically he could make his own way to Yassen’s flat, he knew where it was by now, but he didn’t dare turn up uninvited.

The buzz of his phone nearly made him jump out of his skin. He hardly dared look, but yes, it was actually a text.

_I’m outside._

Alex leaped up and looked out the window. Sure enough, the black car was parked in its usual spot. He hastily texted back - _Coming_ \- grabbed the bag he’d packed, then hesitated, second-guessing himself. Did it look too presumptuous? Still, he didn’t have to say what was in it. 

He had his hand on the door before something else occurred to him and he checked his phone again. The name had come up as Yassen, because he’d edited the number he’d had the original text from, but he’d tried replying to that before – _who are you?_ – only to get an undelivered notification. But nothing had bounced back this time. Did this mean he now definitely had Yassen’s number? 

He walked out to the car and climbed in. Yassen gave him a smile, then nodded at the bag. “Overnight things?”

Alex blushed. So much for not mentioning it. “Yes.”

“Good.” Yassen nodded and started the car, and Alex sank back, relieved. It was okay. Yassen wasn’t angry. Yassen had come for him. Yassen wanted him to stay the night. It was okay.

–

“I bought you a present.” They’d just finished supper, Yassen pouring out wine for Alex to match his own. It was expensive, Alex had thought, like velvet on his tongue. He’d never tasted anything like it. He’d have liked more, but while Yassen didn’t seem to mind him drinking he was careful about how much he had.

“A present? For me?”

“Yes.” Yassen passed a box across and Alex opened it.

“An Apple watch?” He looked up in surprise. “These are like – five hundred quid!”

“Call it an apology for the state I left you in earlier,” Yassen said, with a slight smile. 

“I – wow.” Alex stared at him. “I mean – thank you.”

“Do you like it?”

“Totally! It’s amazing.” Alex glanced at Yassen’s own wristwatch and Yassen smiled.

“Mine only tells the time. But it suits me. You could probably launch a missile somewhere with that thing.”

He went to clear up the supper things, leaving Alex on the couch happily fiddling with the watch settings. He’d never been given such an expensive present before, certainly not by someone he’d only known for a couple of days. 

He wasn’t naive, he knew it was meant as more than an apology. He wondered whether it made him feel cheap, and then reflected that technically it should make him feel expensive. Especially when he looked up the exact model on his phone and found it cost nearer six hundred quid. Was it meant to buy his time, or his silence?

Alex stared across at Yassen, who had ignored the dishwasher under the counter and was washing up by hand. If Alex had behaved like he had earlier in front of Ian, regardless of the provocation, he would have been punished, not rewarded. Certainly there would have been no apology, however hard done by he felt. It confused him, somehow, that two men could have such different reactions to something. Yassen hadn’t even made him do the washing up.

When Yassen was done he came across and held out his hand. Alex took it without protest, letting Yassen lead him into the bedroom. 

“How do you feel?” Yassen asked speculatively, his hands stroking down Alex’s arms. “Still sore?”

“Not too bad,” Alex said, understanding what he was asking. “If you want to – you know.”

“Sure?”

Alex swallowed. “Can you be gentle?”

Yassen smiled, as if taken by surprise yet again and delighted by it. “I can do that,” he promised, and drew Alex into a kiss.

He was as good as his word, and proceeded to spend a long time carefully working Alex open and then just as long fucking him out. 

By the time he was finished Alex was sprawled across the bed, blissed out and weak from exertion and three orgasms, with Yassen lying beside him, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Yassen?” he murmured. 

“Mmn?”

“You don’t have to buy me.”

Yassen smiled slowly. “Good to know. Perhaps sometimes I will want to spoil you though?” he added, and Alex laughed.

“Well I guess that’s okay.” He smiled back, and plucked up courage to ask the question that had been nagging at him this whole time. 

“Who are you?” he asked quietly, threading his fingers through Yassen’s. “Really, I mean. Just some random opportunist who followed me home one day?” He didn’t think so, any more, but he couldn’t fathom what else the connection might be.

Yassen was silent for some time. “I first saw you at the funeral,” he admitted finally.

Alex sat up in shock, suddenly wide awake. “Ian’s?”

“Yes.”

“You knew him?”

“Briefly.” Yassen hesitated. “I knew your father, Alex.”

“What?” Alex breathed, staring at him now.

“A long time ago.” Yassen squeezed the fingers that were still interlaced with his own. “We were close. For a time.”

Alex digested this. A thousand questions crowded into his mind, but he didn’t want Yassen to feel he was pestering him. “Do you think he’d approve? Of this?” he asked instead.

“I don’t think either of them would,” said Yassen, guilty smile playing around his lips. 

“Good.” Alex’s vehemence took Yassen by surprise, as the boy climbed into his lap. “Serve them both right for dying,” Alex added viciously, kissing Yassen hard for emphasis.

Yassen kissed back, folding Alex protectively into his arms.

“Oh Alex.” It was a sigh, more than anything. Alex pulled back and looked at him.

“What?”

Yassen shook his head. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Kiss me.”

Alex did as he asked, sensing Yassen’s strange mood and wanting to make things better, knowing he’d caused it by asking in the first place. But Yassen also didn’t have to have told him, and Alex was grateful he had. He would ask him another time, about his father. For now, it was just the two of them, and no ghosts were needed.

They sprawled out on the bed together, and Yassen nuzzled into Alex’s arm, before opening his mouth wider and biting down on him.

“Ow! Did you just bite me?” Alex laughed indignantly.

Yassen smirked. “I couldn’t resist it. You’re so tempting. Your skin is beautiful. So smooth and unblemished. Like a peach. It needed teethmarks.”

Alex snickered, and smacked him. Then something in his words hit home and he reached out again to trace Yassen’s scar with his fingers, before pressing a soft and lingering kiss against it. Wanting suddenly for Yassen to know he found him just as appealing.

Wordlessly, Yassen put his arms around him and pulled him close. Alex settled against him happily, letting him pull up the covers and turn out the light. He didn’t need expensive presents he thought, not when he could have this. The sex was all well and good, but being held and kissed like this made him feel warm and safe and wanted in a way he hadn’t for a long time. And that was worth everything. 

–


	7. Chapter 7

And the sex itself – was fine, Alex told himself as the days went past. Yassen was a considerate enough lover and always made sure Alex found his own pleasure in whatever they did. He also usually – although not always – checked that Alex was okay with it before fucking him. 

Oddly, it was the times when he didn’t that Alex found easier to rationalise. Occasionally Yassen’s mood would be strangely restless and he would just push Alex down and take what he wanted. He never exactly hurt Alex during these times, but the fact Alex wasn’t specifically being asked to agree to it somehow made it easier to think about.

Also, it invariably meant Yassen would pay more attention to him afterwards, and Alex liked that. Yassen never apologised for anything he did, but it always made him noticeably more attentive. Alex could put up with aching the next day if it just meant Yassen would hold him close and tell him how good he was. 

All of which meant it was a few weeks before the physical toll of being expected to put out nearly every night began to wear on him. 

It hadn’t been completely continuous – some nights Yassen had to work late, and couldn’t see him. He never explained exactly what it was he was doing, but Alex had been used to Ian working all hours as well and just assumed once you reached a certain level in business that was what was expected of you. He couldn’t see it for himself, personally. But then, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life. It hadn’t been long ago he couldn’t see a future for himself at all. Maybe he’d ask Yassen what he thought. 

But regardless of how much Alex enjoyed the attention, the expectation he was simply there to be used started to wear on him. 

So much so that one night when Yassen sat down next to him on the sofa as usual and slipped a speculative hand down the collar of his shirt, Alex had shrugged off his touch before he’d thought about what he was doing.

It had been a purely instinctive reaction, and as soon as he’d done it Alex suffered a guilty swooping sensation in his stomach as Yassen stared at him in surprise. 

Alex assumed Yassen would just reach for him again and braced himself not to flinch this time, but he carried on staring.

“Alex? Is something wrong?” Yassen asked finally.

Alex shook his head automatically, but Yassen still didn’t move. Alex licked his lips nervously. He didn’t even know if he was _allowed_ to say no. Yassen had never threatened or hurt him in anger but then Alex had never given him a reason to.

“Please, I – ” Alex didn’t even know how to put it. “I can’t, I – it’s too much.” He was braced for anything, but Yassen’s expression softened and he moved closer, putting his arm around Alex in nothing more than a comforting hug. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered, leaning into him in relief. “I just need – I don’t know.”

“A night off?” Yassen suggested, and Alex laughed. 

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.” Yassen kissed the top of his head. “I forget how young you are. I’m treating you like an adult and expecting you to react like one.”

“It’s fine,” Alex said quickly. “It’s just – ”

“Little overwhelming?” 

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you should go home tomorrow?” Yassen suggested. “Take a bit of time for yourself. You haven’t been back for a while, you should probably make sure everything’s okay.”

“No – no, really, I don’t need to – ”

“Alex.” Yassen took hold of his arms, ducking his head until Alex reluctantly met his gaze. “That wasn’t a threat.” He smiled, sympathy and exasperation mingling on his face. “I just thought you might like a bit of space.”

“Oh.”

“I could take you home now, if you wanted? Maybe you’d like to spend a night in your own bed?”

“No.” Alex shook his head, more confidently now. “I like it here. With you.”

“Well. That’s good to know.” Yassen hugged him again, and this time Alex wrapped his arms around him. “Alright. I promise. No sex tonight.”

Alex laughed, and Yassen patted him. “Why don’t you go and get ready, get in, huh? I’ve got some work to finish off, I won’t disturb you when I come in.”

Alex went to wash and brush his teeth and climbed into bed alone. It was the first time he’d really had it to himself and he stretched out luxuriously in the middle. It was a big bed, and comfortable. All of Yassen’s things were like this, not flashy but of the best quality. Alex wondered what it was he did for a living. Something to do with finance, presumably, if he’d known his uncle well enough to be at the funeral. 

He’d left the door open so he could see Yassen sitting at the table, working on a laptop. Alex was drowsing, half-asleep, when an unfamiliar ringtone jolted him back awake. In the other room Yassen looked briefly annoyed and took out a phone Alex had never seen him use before. 

Alex strained his ears to catch Yassen’s side of the conversation, then realised the reason he couldn’t make it out was because it wasn’t in English.

When Yassen hung up he came over to the bedroom and stood in the doorway. “Alex?” he called quietly. 

“Yes, I’m awake.” Alex sat up and Yassen came right in.

“I have to go out,” he said apologetically. “Will you be alright?”

“Yes, of course. At this time of night though?”

“Something of an emergency,” Yassen said with a rueful smile. “I’ll be as quick as I can, but don’t wait up. I’ll try not to wake you when I come in.” He hesitated. “If I’m not in the best of moods when I come back, then I apologise now.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I just have to go and sort something out.” Yassen kissed him. “Can’t trust anybody to do their job these days, eh?”

Alex smiled. “Knock ‘em dead.”

Yassen stifled a laugh. “I intend to.”

–

It was some time in the small hours when Yassen finally returned. Alex woke to find the light was on in the bathroom, and he turned on the bedside lamp so Yassen wouldn’t have to fumble his way to bed.

When he finally appeared, looking tired and pissed off, Alex got a shock. There was a bloody scrape down the side of his face.

“What happened?” 

Yassen gave him a hard look that almost made Alex physically flinch back, but then the angry outer shell seemed to drop away and he sighed, climbing into bed. 

“Nothing.”

“Right. Looks like it.”

Yassen gave him a sideways glance, then shrugged. “Someone tried to mug me.”

“Tried?” 

“I’m not a man who lets his wallet go that easily.”

Alex reached out for him, taking his hand, and then getting a second shock when he found Yassen’s knuckles were bloodied. 

“Were you really mugged?” he asked quietly. 

Yassen gave him a sharp look. “Why, what do you think happened?” he countered.

“Did you get in a fight?”

Yassen just looked at him, and Alex sighed. “Don’t lie to me. I don’t like it.”

Yassen gave a breathy laugh, and drew his hand down Alex’s face. “I just don’t want you to think badly of me,” he said quietly. 

“I don’t. I couldn’t if I tried.” Alex lifted Yassen’s sore knuckles to his lips and kissed them. “Does it hurt?”

“Not any more.”

Alex smiled. “Do you want me? Would that help?”

“I always want you. But I said I’d leave you alone tonight.”

“You can. If you want,” Alex offered. 

Yassen studied him, eyes crinkling into a genuine smile. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Alex snorted, and Yassen slipped a hand under the duvet. “You’re also unfair.”

“Why?” Alex laughed.

“Making me hard when I’ve promised not to touch you.”

“Are you really?” Alex watched the movement of Yassen’s arm speculatively.

“Might be.”

Alex twitched back the duvet to expose Yassen stroking himself.

Yassen settled back, watching Alex watching him. “Take your pyjamas off,” he instructed. “I want to see you.”

Alex did as he was told, unbuttoning his top and then pushing the bottoms down to his knees. He was semi-hard, and Yassen’s eyes were fixed on him hungrily, his hand moving roughly on himself. 

Alex let his hand stroke slowly along his own swelling dick and was gratified by the noise Yassen made. He did it again, watching Yassen’s hand on his cock, feeling his own stiffening even more. Trusting now that Yassen was going to keep his promise it made him bold, as did the knowledge that Yassen was getting off like this just from looking at him.

He spread his legs slightly, sliding his fingers between them, enjoying the stifled grunt this provoked from Yassen as his hand moved faster still.

Yassen finally came with a groan, spilling all over his stomach, tugging himself slowly now, milking out the last drops with a sated and shaky sigh. “Fuck.” He looked up at Alex, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. “Thank you.”

Alex blushed, pulling his pyjamas up again. He leaned over on impulse and kissed Yassen on the mouth, being immediately pulled into a deep and heartfelt kiss with a lot of tongue.

Yassen let him go and sat up, making a face at the mess on his stomach. “Ah, look at the state of me.” He grabbed a handful of tissues, making Alex giggle.

“You look good like that.”

“Do I?” Yassen smiled. “Maybe tomorrow it will be yours, huh?”

Alex grinned. “Maybe.” He found he’d gained confidence, somehow. And knowing now that Yassen wouldn’t insist on sex if he didn’t want to, perversely made him want it again. “Maybe we should spend tomorrow in bed.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

“You could teach me things instead.”

Yassen snaked out an arm and pulled Alex close. “I could. Does this mean you want to?”

“Uh huh.”

Yassen kissed him. “Then it seems your education is a sacrifice we must make.”

–

The upshot of the evening’s conversation was that Yassen started checking with him every time they had sex, which in some ways wasn’t what Alex wanted at all. Eventually he plucked up the courage to say so.

“You know, you don’t have to ask,” he whispered one night. They were lying on the bed together, still half-dressed.

“I’ve warned you about making dangerous offers,” Yassen murmured, but his expression was speculative. 

Alex flushed. “As long as – as long as I can always say no,” he managed. “Then it’s okay.”

“You would prefer that?” Yassen kissed him. “You would be able to tell me?”

Alex nodded. “I think so. If I knew you’d stop – and wouldn’t mind. Then yes. I could say.”

“Maybe we should get you a safeword,” Yassen suggested, giving a throaty laugh as the colour rose vividly in Alex’s cheeks. “It doesn’t mean I’m going to tie you up. But it might make you feel more secure?”

“I guess.” Alex still looked unsure, and Yassen kissed him again.

“Perhaps a conversation for another day. But for now, if you’re amenable...” He took hold of Alex’s hand, placed it firmly on the distinct bulge in his trousers. “God you make me hard.”

–

Afterwards, when they were lying quietly again, Yassen turned to him with a sigh. 

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

Alex gave him a nervous look. “Nothing good ever came out of a conversation starting that way.”

“No, it’s nothing that bad. It’s just – I have to go away for a while. For work. Will you be alright?”

“How long?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps a month? Hopefully less.”

Alex sat up. “A month? Where are you going?” 

“South America. I’ve been putting it off, but – I can’t any longer.”

“You never did tell me what it is you actually do.”

“International contracts.”

“Sounds dull.”

“You have no idea. It is also extremely commercially sensitive so I’m afraid I’ll be out of contact. No personal phones allowed.”

“You are coming back?” Alex was aware how plaintive he sounded and winced, but Yassen kissed him.

“Yes of course. Absolutely.”

Alex gave a short laugh. “I mean, I suppose you could have a wife and kids somewhere for all I know.”

It was Yassen’s turn to laugh. “I promise you I don’t. You are the only person in my life Alex,” he whispered.

“I am?” Alex looked up at him and Yassen cupped his face and kissed him again. 

“You really are. I promise.” 

“Well you know you’re the only person in mine. Like – literally.”

“Then I guess we have something in common,” Yassen murmured, and Alex smiled up at him, feeling suddenly warm inside.

–


	8. Chapter 8

The first week wasn’t too bad. Back home, Alex found he actually had the motivation to clean the place up and sort out the things he’d been putting off initially because of his spiralling interest and latterly because he’d been spending most of his nights at Yassen’s flat. 

Yassen had bought him more clothes too, and Alex hung them up in his own wardrobe and sat on the bed looking at them. He wondered where Yassen was, what he was doing. He hadn’t even told him which country he was going to. Alex hoped it was a safe one. 

By the second week Alex was feeling his absence. He tried to stay upbeat, played music, made sure he did his homework, but it was all distraction techniques. His evenings had been full of Yassen for weeks, and while the first days had admittedly been a bit of a respite, by now Alex was missing him hugely. 

Yassen might not talk much but he was a good listener, and would let Alex ramble on for hours. Alex, always chatty by nature, had been virtually silent for months since Ian’s death. 

Once he’d got over his initial fear that Yassen was going to do something terrible to him, Alex had found the words, bottled up for so long, poured out of him like water. Yassen never complained. Occasionally he would shut him up by kissing him – or by giving his mouth something else to do – but otherwise he would let Alex fill the silences with a tolerant amusement.

Suddenly having no one else to talk to again hit Alex hard. He even tried starting a conversation with Tom. His reception was frosty, but Tom did at least answer him, looking at him with a cautious curiosity as if he wasn’t sure whether Alex’s tentative overtures of renewed friendship were genuine or not.

Alex suspected there was a lot that needed mending, and that it wasn’t going to happen overnight. But he also thought that he might actually feel strong enough now to try.

The nights were the worst though. With no one to hold him, and back in a house that seemed to echo with the ghosts of both the living and the dead he found it impossible to sleep.

After two weeks of this, feeling wrecked and knowing his fragile mood was sinking again because of it, he hatched a plan. He reckoned he could sleep if he was in Yassen’s bed, even if he wasn’t there. 

Alex took the tube across the city, walking the last blocks to Yassen’s apartment building. As he reached the door the old lady from the floor below was coming out and held it open for him with a smile. He thanked her sweetly, unsure if she’d seen him coming and going or whether he just looked trustworthy. 

Outside Yassen’s flat he hesitated. He knocked, just in case, but there was no answer and he’d seen no lights on, from below. Yassen was half a world away. 

Alex didn’t have a key, but that wasn’t necessarily a problem. He’d come equipped. 

He slid the piece of wire out of his pocket, and bent to the keyhole. It took him a couple of minutes but finally it clicked open and he walked in.

The flat was cool and dark, and he turned on the light. It had an empty feel, but he could pretend Yassen had just stepped out for a moment. He went into the bedroom and got undressed. Crawling under the covers, he could imagine they smelt faintly of Yassen and closed his eyes contentedly. Finally, he could sleep.

–

Waking the next morning was disorienting, but Alex had slept better than he had for days. It was going to be a stretch to make school on time from here, but as he let himself out of the flat, Alex knew he would be back here to sleep again that night.

–

Almost two weeks later, returning in the small hours of the morning Yassen automatically checked the sensor set into the frame before he unlocked the door, and froze. Someone had triggered it, meaning someone had been inside. Were they still there?

He took out a gun and opened the door silently. The flat was dark, but there was a faint smell of food, and it had a lived-in warmth when it should have felt stale and cold. Yassen stood quite still without turning the light on and listened. Could he hear something coming from the bedroom?

Noiselessly, gun in one hand, he pushed the door slowly open and flicked on the light. 

And bit back a laugh.

By the time Alex had sat up, blinking in the light, the gun had disappeared again. Yassen turned off the main light and switched on the lamp instead, taking off his jacket and shoes and climbing onto the bed. 

“Well this is a nice surprise,” he purred, scooping the sleepy Alex up from the bedclothes into his arms for a kiss. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

Alex wrapped his arms around Yassen’s neck, folding himself into the embrace. Alex was warm and affectionate and drowsy and Yassen immediately had the urge to fuck him through the mattress. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex murmured, embarrassed at being caught out. Somehow Yassen arriving home in the middle of the night hadn’t occurred to him. “Do you mind?”

Yassen shook his head. “I’d have given you a key if you asked. How did you get in?”

“Picked the lock,” Alex admitted and Yassen’s eyebrows went up.

“Well aren’t you full of surprises. But why are you here, if you didn’t know I was coming?”

Alex flushed. “Sometimes I can’t sleep. So I come here. I can sleep here.”

Yassen studied him, his expression unreadable. Alex squirmed under the scrutiny, afraid Yassen thought he was an idiot, but then Yassen pulled him into a hug so tight it squeezed the breath from him.

“I missed you,” Alex confessed, face pressed into his neck.

“I missed you too.”

He had, too. It had come as something of a surprise. Yassen had no problems clearing his mind to concentrate on a job, but there’d been a day in Manaus when he was stuck in a grotty hotel with no air conditioning, waiting for a connection and unable to leave the room until sundown. He’d been lying under a mosquito net in nothing but a pair of sweat-stained shorts with nothing to do but let his thoughts wander.

He hadn’t for a second considered bringing Alex with him, but it was easy to summon the image of him lying next to him here. 

Yassen had wondered what he was doing, how he was coping alone. Alex seemed brighter these days, the almost blank compliance he’d displayed at first was being replaced by an altogether mouthier resilience as he began to feel more secure.

Yassen wouldn’t wish the life he had on Alex by any means, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen someone with so much untapped potential. Right now Alex was rudderless, but with the right guidance he could be extraordinary. 

They’d talked, at one point, about his schooling. Alex was showing a little more interest in it these days as his mood lifted, but he was still afraid he was going to fail all of his exams and had no idea what he wanted to do. Yassen had suggested a year out, reset himself, retake anything he needed to and then think about college. 

He wondered now if he could take him away somewhere during that year. Alex had talked about holidays with his uncle, the things they’d done. Some of which had made Yassen raise an eyebrow, but Alex seemed oblivious to anything out of the ordinary. Yassen suspected Alex’s depression hadn’t been been helped by extreme boredom. His life had gone from filled with action to lacking any stimulus whatsoever. 

The fact that this was technically Yassen’s fault, he ignored. When he’d shot Ian he hadn’t even known Alex existed. This wasn’t guilt. He wasn’t sure what it was. Curiosity about John’s son had lead him to the house, and Alex’s extraordinary display had tempted him into sticking around.

He sighed, wondering what the hell he was doing imagining a future for them. Sooner or later Alex would wake up to the reality of what they were doing. The stronger and happier he got, the more likely that was to happen, but Yassen found he didn’t begrudge Alex his recovery, even if it ended with Alex walking out in horror. He wouldn’t stop him. But it did mean he shouldn’t get attached.

Right now though, Alex was wound around him, all sleepy affection and pleased smiles. “Did you really miss me?”

“I thought I would be coming back to an empty flat and a cold bed. This – is better,” Yassen said thoughtfully. 

Alex kissed him. “Welcome home.”

Yassen lowered him into the bedclothes, warm from his body, and slid a hand inside Alex’s pyjama bottoms. He was still soft, and Yassen curled his fingers around him, enjoying the feel of him in his hand, stroking gently until he started to swell and thicken. 

Yassen got up and stripped off his clothes, for once dropping them on the floor in his haste and making Alex laugh. 

“You really did miss me, huh,” Alex murmured, eyeing Yassen’s erection speculatively while sleepily palming his own. 

“Put it this way, if I came in your mouth right now I might drown you.”

Alex convulsed with laughter and Yassen climbed back into bed with him. “If I stink, I’m sorry,” Yassen told him. “I’ve been travelling for two days.”

“You must be tired,” Alex teased. “Maybe we should just go to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Yassen lifted Alex’s pyjama top off over his head and chucked it in the same direction as his clothes, mostly, if he was honest, to make Alex laugh again.

By now Alex was intimately familiar with the contents of the bedside drawer, and it was him who took out the condoms and rolled one onto Yassen’s cock. 

Yassen lay him down and spread him out, kissing his warm skin from temple to navel, smiling as Alex bucked his hips pointedly, hoping for attention further down. Yassen was torn between fucking him as fast and hungrily as he wanted to and taking his time, savouring Alex’s body by inches, tasting him, stroking him, devouring him with his eyes. 

It had been a long month, full of tension, and to be able to relax in a place of safety with Alex in his arms – Yassen couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to purely happy. 

It was a dangerous, addictive drug like no other. He’d already stayed too long in one place, given Alex his real name, run the risk of the authorities taking a renewed interest in Alex’s circumstances. It was reckless, and stupid, and Yassen found he didn’t care.

 _If they came for me tonight, I would die happy,_ he thought.

Moving inside Alex now, hearing his name gasped out over swollen lips as he brought them both slowly but surely to a shuddering climax. 

–

Lying together in the post-coital haze, feeling closer than ever before, Alex plucked up the courage to raise a subject that had been on his mind for a while now, and judged Yassen was in an amenable enough mood to potentially answer. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Yassen turned his head to look at him enquiringly. 

“Did you really know my father?”

“Yes.” Yassen studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I did.”

“What was he like?”

Yassen paused. “I liked him,” he said finally. “He was – smart. Brave. Funny.”

“Sounds like you had a crush on him,” Alex teased, and Yassen snorted. 

“Shut up.”

“What did he look like?”

“You don’t know?” Yassen sounded surprised. 

“He died when I was still a baby. So did my mum.”

“You don’t have pictures?”

Alex shook his head. “I think – maybe my uncle didn’t get along with him all that well. He never wanted to talk about him, if I tried to ask questions.” He sounded sad, and Yassen realised why Alex hadn’t asked before now. He’d expected him to, frankly and been surprised when he hadn’t brought it up. There were definite moments he wasn’t all that sorry he’d killed Ian Rider. 

Yassen stared at Alex for a long moment, then made up his mind and went to open a locked case in the closet which held the things he’d need if he had to leave in a hurry.

When he came back to the bed he was holding a photograph, an old polaroid of two men standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. One of them looked like Alex, and he stared. 

“That’s my dad?”

Yassen nodded. Alex looked harder and gave a sudden laugh. “And that’s you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God. You were so cute.” He looked up and grinned. “I mean, you’re still cute. Or handsome, now, I guess.”

“Shut up,” Yassen said again, but Alex could tell he was trying not to smile, and kissed him.

“Were you like – on a date?”

“Work. Some random guy was taking pictures of tourists and selling them. John wouldn’t pay for it.” Yassen hesitated. “I went back.”

“You totally had a crush on him!” Alex crowed, then looked abruptly unsure. “Is that why – ?”

“No.” Yassen interrupted him, cupping his face and looking at him intently. “Before you ask, that’s not why I’m doing this.”

“So why are you?”

“I don’t know. Because you’re crazy?” Yassen suggested, and Alex laughed, relaxing. “Because I’ve never met anyone like you? Because I never expected to?” he added more quietly, and Alex kissed him on the cheek.

He tried to hand the photo back, and Yassen sighed heavily. “You should probably keep it.”

“Is it the only one you’ve got?”

Yassen nodded. 

Alex put it back into his hand, then smiled. “It’s the twenty-first century Yassen, we can get a copy made.”

Yassen looked up at him and let out a surprised laugh, his face clearing. Alex threw himself into his arms and kissed him again, hard.

When they broke off again Yassen sighed. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Yassen shook his head. “What are we doing, Alex?”

“What do you mean?”

“This was only ever meant to be – ” Yassen tailed off, unsure what he’d even been going to say.

Alex eyed him, a curious mix of emotions twisting inside him. Apprehension, at what Yassen might be about to say, but also something like relief, that Yassen had no more clue than he did how they’d really got here. Simple opportunism was better than some of the alternatives.

“You were just going to take what you wanted and move on.”

“Yes.” Yassen looked surprised, that Alex should have such a clear-eyed view of things. 

“Well if you’re still getting what you want there’s no reason to, is there?” Alex said defensively. “Move on, I mean.”

“You deserve better,” Yassen whispered.

“I don’t want better. I want you.” Alex realised how that sounded, and winced. “I mean – ”

“I know what you mean.” It had almost raised a smile, and Alex took his hand.

“You can’t leave me. You’re all I’ve got.”

Yassen looked at him, heard the note of pleading Alex was trying to disguise.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Yassen said softly, and Alex slumped in relief. Yassen squeezed his hand. “You’re all I’ve got, too.”

Alex looked up at him. “That night on the bridge. Would you have stopped me?” he asked quietly. He’d wondered.

“At the time I felt it was your choice to make. But also, what you were doing – it’s what you do when you feel there _is_ no other choice. All I did was give you another option. A way out. It was up to you if you took it.”

Alex looked at him. It sounded like he knew what he was talking about, but Yassen also very clearly didn’t want him to ask. He kissed him instead. “Thank you.”

Yassen looked at him gravely. “Now though,” he said, and his voice sounded somehow thicker. “Now I would stop you.” 

The second kiss was harder, and lasted a long time.

–


	9. Chapter 9

The special assembly that morning on the modern dangers facing young people and hosted by the local police might have been well-meaning, but to an audience of cynical fifteen and sixteen-year-olds, it just produced a lot of self-conscious sniggering.

Alex automatically looked across at Tom. Sometimes he forgot that they weren’t really friends any more, and muscle memory took over. To his surprise Tom was looking at him too, having done exactly the same thing.

“What the fuck?” Alex mouthed across the aisle.

Tom gave him an exaggerated shrug and rolled his eyes. It was the closest thing they’d had to a connection in months, and somehow when they exited the hall they fell into step together.

“What the hell was all that?” Tom complained. On top of the stuff about guarding your drink and the perils of being pressured into smoking and having sex before you were ready and people pushing drugs on you, there’d been a bit about not accepting lifts from strangers which had seemed weirdly dated. The only real effect of it all was to give Alex a semi as his mind inevitably wandered off on a tangent.

“How old do they think we are?” Alex laughed. “We’re not kids. And we’re not stupid.”

“Exactly. Christ you’d have to be a right moron to get into a stranger’s car these days. Deserve everything you got, frankly.”

Alex snorted. “Besides, who’s going to accept a lift in London? It’d be quicker to walk.”

He was gratified when Tom actually laughed out loud, and then slightly saddened when Tom only said “See ya”, and walked off to join another group. Still. Things were getting better. Alex sensed he was still very much on probation as far as Tom was concerned, but at least they were talking again.

–

“How was your day?” 

Sprawled on the sofa after school Alex smiled to himself. He might be subject to Yassen’s whims and appetites, but consciously or not Yassen had also conceded to some of Alex’s needs. Basic conversations being one of them.

“Hilarious, to be honest. Guess what we had a lecture on?”

“Personal hygiene and the teenage boy?”

Alex looked indignant. “Harsh.” He surreptitiously sniffed his armpits. “No. Stranger danger.”

Yassen snorted. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

Alex cackled delightedly. “That’s exactly what I said!”

“Plus several months too late,” Yassen pointed out dryly. “Maybe they should have used you as a terrible warning of what can happen.” 

Alex pushed his hands between his legs, stretching out. “It’s funny,” he said quietly. “I used to – fantasise. Before I met you. When you were just watching, I mean. About you breaking in one day, and – yeah. Taking me.” Alex glanced up, aware Yassen had gone very still and very quiet and was watching him closely. Alex moistened his lips, pushing his clasped hands a little more firmly against his groin. 

“Taking you?” Yassen repeated carefully.

“Making me do it.” Alex felt himself blushing, the heat rising in his cheeks at the admission. “When I was drunk, maybe. When I couldn’t fight back. Couldn’t stop you.”

Yassen came over and sat down next to him, very close. Drew a finger down Alex’s spine, making him shiver.

“And now?” Yassen murmured. “Is this something you still – think about?”

“Maybe? Sometimes?” Alex shifted in his seat, resisting the temptation to rub his groin. He was getting embarrassingly hard just thinking about it.

“Would you like to – explore that?” Yassen asked. 

“Doesn’t asking me rather defeat the object?” Alex joked awkwardly, but Yassen just smiled and held his gaze. 

“Something like that, we would both need to be very clear about what you wanted. Can you tell me?” 

Alex gave him pleading eyes. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he suspected Yassen knew it too, he just didn’t know if he could say it out loud. While conceding it was sensible of Yassen not to attempt something Alex couldn’t even bring himself to say, he also considered it was a terrible time for the man to develop scruples. 

Yassen took pity on him, sliding a hand over Alex’s thigh, the edge of his thumb just grazing the obvious bulge in his trousers. 

“Shall I guess? You want me to force you,” he murmured, holding Alex’s spellbound gaze as he started stroking his dick. 

“You want to be held down. Powerless. Hurting. My hand over your mouth, my cock inside you.” Yassen’s hand was moving with purpose now, relentless and just exactly hard enough.

“Your body invaded, used, discarded. Nothing but a struggling, helpless victim.” He was leaning in now, breathing the words into Alex’s ear, the promise of tender violence. 

“No condom, no foreplay. No mercy. Leave you aching. Bruised. Raw, wet, begging me to stop. Brutalised. Violated. Raped.” 

Alex jerked, and Yassen felt a spreading warmth under his hand. 

“Fuck.” Alex swallowed, hot and embarrassed and breathless with the sheer need of what Yassen was offering.

Yassen gave a low delighted laugh and pulled Alex into a kiss. He was painfully hard himself, and right now Alex would be pliant and desperately willing. Time later to decide on the details of how they would do it for real. Right now it was just sex they wanted, both of them equally needy regardless of the fact Alex had only just come. 

He carried Alex into the bedroom and dropped him on the bed, following him down and pulling his trousers down.

Alex made a keening noise, struggling out of the rest of his clothes, pulling Yassen against him and spreading his legs. He was sticky with smeared come but Yassen didn’t seem to mind and had soon buried himself inside of him with a quiet groan.

Alex rocked underneath him, driving himself down onto Yassen’s cock, hard again himself already. Yassen had taken the bare minimum of time needed to deal with condom and lube, and the stretch and ache was just what Alex needed right now. Yassen was pounding into him hard and fast, and Alex threw his head back and pulled his words of earlier around him, imagining Yassen’s hands clamped around his wrists hard enough to bruise, holding him against a wall and fucking into him while he tried frantically to resist.

They came within seconds of each other and collapsed, panting and laughing together in a tangle of limbs and clothing.

Once they’d sorted themselves out, cleaned up and calmed down, they settled back down together and considered what else they might do with the idea. Alex was excited by the thought they could play it for real, and Yassen certainly wasn’t objecting. 

“Pity your car doesn’t have a back seat,” Alex teased. 

“I could get one,” said Yassen immediately, “if that was what you wanted?”

Alex laughed, not entirely sure he was joking. “Nah, it’s alright. I was thinking – maybe the couch? At home? My home, I mean. Like – I used to think about it there. When you were watching me.”

Yassen gave a murmur of approval and shifted closer still, making Alex smile at his sudden renewed interest. 

“Did you?” Alex asked, realising he’d never really thought about what Yassen’s thoughts might have been, on the outside looking in. “Did you think about – like – breaking in? Fucking me?”

Yassen nuzzled him, hiding a smile. “I never would have,” he said. “I do prefer my partners to be willing. But yes. I thought about it. I never – did anything, when I was outside. I never knew who might come along. But afterwards, here...yes. I imagined it. Being with you.” He shook his head. “How do you make me want you so much Alex?”

Alex blushed. “I don’t know. But I’m glad you do.”

–

The house was quiet. Alex walked down the hall, feeling his chest tighten with anticipation. He was barefoot, in old clothes that didn’t matter if they got ripped, and had spent an embarrassing but instructive half hour working himself open with lube and fingers. Whatever Yassen did, he wouldn’t be taking time for any of that. The thought had made Alex half-hard already, and he resisted the urge to touch himself.

They hadn’t discussed specifics, he didn’t know when or how Yassen would appear. He’d asked if he should leave the door unlocked, and Yassen had just laughed.

Alex was turning into the living room when a movement at the edge of his vision made him look round. Too late, as someone slammed into the side of him and pinned him against the wall. There was a hand over his mouth, but rather than warm skin it was a leather glove and for a second his body went into full panic. 

_Was_ it Yassen? He’d assumed he would hear the door open, had assumed he would see him coming, but he couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Someone was pressed up against him pressing him hard against the wall, one hand clamped over his mouth, the other fisted in his hair. The thought flashed through his mind that he had no idea if Yassen was the only person to have seen him all those nights.

Alex tried to struggle free, tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled squeal.

Perhaps recognising that scaring the living daylights out of him was less than a turn-on and agreeing a safeword was no good if he couldn’t actually speak, the hand moved down from his mouth to settle round his throat instead. It was hardly less threatening, but it was accompanied by warm lips pressed against the back of his neck, and a low, familiar laugh.

Alex would have sagged with relief, if there’d been any part of his body currently able to do so. He didn’t know how he managed to scare himself so much, but he’d always had an over-active imagination. Which was kind’ve how they’d ended up here, now he came to think about it.

He became aware that Yassen was holding himself still, giving Alex a chance to change his mind, waiting for him to be sure. This time when Alex tried to move, Yassen loosened the grip of his arm just enough for Alex to raise a hand. Alex let his fingers slide over the glove currently cupping his chin in something that wasn’t quite a chokehold, and lifted it up until it was once more covering his mouth.

Alex felt more than heard the grunt of approval this produced. Suddenly the body plastered against his own was all tense steel again, the hand over his mouth squeezing down tightly.

“Well what do we have here?” Yassen’s voice was low and silky, and full of menace. “The boy who likes to show himself off. Do you know what happens to little teases? Do you know what’s going to happen to you?” 

Alex made a noise in the back of his throat, all he could manage. He could taste leather, as Yassen’s hand clamped down hard enough to part his lips and one gloved finger pushed inside his mouth.

Yassen shifted his grip, reaching down with the other hand to grope Alex’s crotch. He was flagpole stiff, and Yassen squeezed him through his sweatpants.

“Look at you, so desperate for a fucking. You display yourself like cheap goods, well now you get to suffer the consequences.”

“No.” Alex forced his head sideways and tried to wriggle out of his grasp, wanting to make Yassen rougher with him. To his surprise, his efforts at freeing himself made exactly zero impact. In all the times they’d play-fought Yassen had always yielded to some extent to him, but suddenly it was like pushing against a brick wall. He swallowed hard against the fingers that were back around his throat. 

“Are you going to be nice to me, or do I have to make you?”

“Let go of me.”

Yassen’s response was to push him through the door into the living room and bend him forwards over the arm of the couch. Alex sucked in a breath as he felt Yassen’s erection pressing against the curve of his arse.

“Let’s see what you’ve got to offer.” 

Alex felt his trousers pulled down to his knees and tried to squirm away, only to be shoved down again so roughly that he gasped. A hand smacked down hard, just once, across his buttocks, so shocking that it made him freeze in place even though Yassen had let him go.

He could hear Yassen unzipping himself and when hands next touched him the gloves had gone. He could feel the head of Yassen’s cock pushing between his cheeks, and scrabbled helplessly at the cushions.

“I’m going to hurt you Alex. But it’s what you deserve, isn’t it? Flaunting yourself like a cheap whore.”

“Fuck.”

Yassen shunted forward and Alex gave a choked yell as the tip of Yassen’s cock pushed inside him.

“No. Please.”

“Begging won’t help you.” Yassen pushed further in, making Alex whine. This was the first time they’d done this without a condom and it felt deliciously obscene.

“You can wriggle all you want,” Yassen told him. “It’s only making me harder.”

“Please. You’re hurting me.”

“What did you expect, displaying yourself like a dog in heat?” Yassen thrust the rest of the way in without warning, and Alex gave a wordless, strangled moan.

Before Alex could get used to the feeling Yassen had abruptly pulled all the way out again, taken hold of Alex and bodily shoved him down until he was sprawled on his front on the sofa. Yassen followed, straddling him, holding his wrists above his head.

Alex strained against his grip, feeling his cock throb wildly as he felt Yassen’s grip on him tighten. He would have bruises, tomorrow.

Yassen was lying on top of him now, pinning him down, and Alex shuddered with arousal. His cock was already leaking as Yassen pushed his legs apart and spat on his hole.

“You know what happens to mouthy little boys, yes? They get what’s coming to them. Get filled until they’re dripping.”

“No. You can’t. Please.” 

Again, just the briefest of pauses for Yassen to be sure Alex’s protests were still only playful and then he drove into him hard.

Alex tried to swear but his face was pushed into a cushion and all he got was a mouthful of fluff. Yassen was thrusting into him in earnest now, a thick, hot presence inside him that never let up for a moment. Alex thought Yassen would eventually tire, or slow, or take a breather, or _something_ , but he kept going at the same brutal pace until Alex was seeing stars.

“Fuuuuck.” Alex moaned helplessly, his voice vibrating with the rhythm of Yassen’s punishing thrusts. His thighs were sore, his throat was parched, but there was a heat spreading out from his centre now in a way that suggested he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Yassen seemed to sense Alex was close and pulled all the way out, only to drive back in with one last sudden vicious thrust that culminated in Yassen coming hard, a hot spurting rush deep inside of him.

Alex’s orgasm exploded throughout his body. Waves of spasming, devastating ecstasy blanked out everything but the feeling of the man still inside him, fucking him through it, slower now, letting him ride it out.

When it was over Alex felt as weak as a ragdoll. Yassen pulled out and turned him over, gathering him into his arms, all pretence of violence gone.

“Are you all right?” he murmured, as Alex nestled in against his chest, grateful that Yassen had understood what he needed now was immediate comfort.

Words were beyond him but Alex managed an exaggerated nod, and Yassen smiled, holding him close.

“Are you okay?” Yassen tried again, when Alex seemed a little more coherent and was trying to sit up. “Was that alright?”

“Oh - my God. That was the hardest I have ever come in my _life_ ,” Alex finally managed. “Fucking hell.” His face was wet with tears of exertion and quite possibly snot, and he hastily wiped his face on his t-shirt before pulling it off and throwing it to the carpet. He felt like he was radiating heat. “That was – fuck. Incredible.” Alex cleared his scratchy throat. “Did you like it?” he checked, rather shyly.

“What do you think?” Yassen gave a throaty laugh, kissing him with a soft, open-mouthed hunger. Alex was dazed and floppy-limbed, and Yassen found he was getting hard again just drinking in the sight and scent of him.

Taken by the idea of fucking him again in this pliant state, he lifted Alex’s legs and lined himself up, giving Alex time to protest if he wanted to. Alex just looked at him wide eyed and nodded, then let out another incoherent moan as Yassen slid back inside him, still so wet and sensitive.

Yassen fucked him slower this time, long, smooth strokes that pierced to the core of him, until Alex was shaking, his breath coming in ragged, heaving sobs. He hadn’t thought he could come again, not so soon, not after the shattering climax of before, but his cock was rising with every thrust.

He practically convulsed when he came, his hips jerking up, body clenching, toes curling, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sofa, his cock still untouched.

Seconds later he felt Yassen’s second load mingle with the first, squirming pleasurably at the feeling of being so full and wet. 

Yassen pulled out carefully and laid alongside Alex, gathering him into his arms. After a while he reached down and pushed two fingers back inside him, fucking him gently and making little wet noises that would have made Alex blush if all the blood hadn’t been busy elsewhere. 

Christ he couldn’t be getting hard again. Could he?

“Fuck,” Alex said in a small voice. “Oh God. Fuck.” His own fingers felt strengthless as he clung to Yassen, and he was grateful they were pressed so close. 

Somehow Yassen’s fingers were making him come apart all over again. There was barely anything left to spill, but suddenly Alex was shuddering against him a third time, wrung out and almost crying from over-stimulation.

Yassen smoothed Alex’s sweat-clumped hair back from his face with his other hand and kissed him. “You look beautiful,” he whispered. “So beautiful.” 

“Yassen – I – I can’t – ”

“Shh. It’s alright. You did so well. You’re so good Alex.” Yassen held him tightly now, rocking him and pressing little kisses to his forehead, until Alex was breathing evenly again and had more or less recovered himself.

“You want to stay here tonight?” Yassen murmured, guessing that Alex wouldn’t want to trail halfway across the city in such an exhausted state.

“Mmn.” Alex nodded, and Yassen smiled down at him.

“Okay. You want to shower, or leave it till morning?” 

“Morning,” Alex mumbled, feeling like he couldn’t stand in a shower right now even if Yassen held him up.

“Sure?” Yassen checked. “You’ll feel horrible.”

“Don’t care.”

Yassen snorted. “I’m not scrubbing your arse before breakfast.”

Alex snickered. “Bet you would if I asked nicely.”

Yassen gave him a strange look. “You know, I kind’ve hate the fact that’s true,” he muttered, and Alex laughed in delight.

“Let’s go to bed. You might have to lift me up though. I think you broke me.”

“I think you’re tougher than you look,” Yassen retorted, but he helped Alex to his feet anyway, collecting their scattered pieces of clothing and turning off the light before helping Alex up the stairs. 

Alex led him automatically to his bedroom and then stopped, some of the pleasant fog lifting as he was struck with embarrassment.

“Uh. We should – use the big bed I guess,” Alex stammered, realising how weird it was to have just lead Yassen to a single bed in a teenager’s room with posters still on the walls. 

“You don’t normally?”

“It’s just – Ian’s, you know?” he said awkwardly. Although he supposed it was his, now. It had never even occurred to him to move into the master bedroom. “We should though. Yeah.” 

“Here’s fine,” Yassen said softly, seeing his dilemma. “I would like to sleep in your bed.”

“No, I’m being stupid, of course we should – ”

“Alex. It’s fine.” Yassen pulled him close and kissed him. “We can sleep here. It will be cosy.”

Alex gave him a grateful smile, relaxing again. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course.” 

“Thank you,” Alex murmured when they were tucked in together, and Yassen’s arms were snugly round him once more. “For understanding.”

“Thank you too.”

“What for?”

Yassen raised his eyebrows. “Everything. This. Sharing your fantasy with me. Trusting me.”

“It was amazing,” Alex murmured sleepily. 

“You’re amazing,” Yassen told him. “Everything about you is amazing. Every day you surprise me again.” 

“You certainly fucking surprised me,” Alex mumbled, hiding his pleased smile in Yassen’s bare chest. “How the hell did you get in earlier, anyway?”

Yassen kissed the top of his head, and reached over to turn out the light.

“What, you think you’re the only one who can pick a lock?”

–


	10. Chapter 10

Alex was fidgety. There was something he’d been wanting to tell Yassen for days, and yet couldn’t bring himself to. The fact was his birthday was fast approaching, and while it should have been the simplest thing in the world to drop ‘hey, it’s my birthday next week’ into the conversation, somehow he hadn’t, and now it was tomorrow and he was still overthinking it, with the added embarrassment on top that he hadn’t said anything earlier. 

He didn’t want it to sound like he was angling for a present. Yassen had already bought him a lot of things as it was, and he hardly needed anything else, he just – wanted someone to share the day with. It was normal, right? For you to celebrate your birthday with your – what were they, exactly? That thought too, had sent Alex down a rabbit-hole of introspection. The idea that Yassen was his boyfriend seemed an inadequate description of the situation and he realised he didn’t really know how Yassen thought of it. 

Alex knew Yassen hadn’t expected or intended for this to last as long as it had, and he didn’t have a problem with that – neither had he. But the truth was that weeks had become months and they were still seeing each other. Most nights Alex would come here after school instead of going home, neither of them even discussed it now, it was just understood. But letting things go unsaid was just another way of saying they weren’t talked about. 

Yassen never treated him like a child – quite aside from the sex, he always seemed to consider Alex’s opinions to hold equal weight with his own, and it was another unexpected contrast after Ian’s rather strict upbringing – but Alex was still very aware of the age difference between them. 

It was another unspoken fear – that Yassen liked him _because_ he was a child. Would he lose interest as Alex got older? Sixteen would make him technically legal – what if Yassen didn’t like that? Alex acknowledged it was a fairly unlikely scenario, but it was one more worry that he couldn’t bring himself to put into words.

“Oh, before I forget,” Yassen said, breaking into Alex’s thoughts. “I’m going to be late back tomorrow.” He frowned. “I’m not sure I’ll even _get_ back tomorrow, it might end up being an overnight. You’re probably better off going home instead.”

A miserable weight settled into Alex’s stomach, but he just nodded. Relieved, in a way, that he hadn’t said anything after all. This way Yassen wouldn’t feel guilty about having other plans, and Alex would never need to know if he would have rearranged them.

–

When he woke the next morning Yassen had already gone, and Alex got dressed slowly. Sixteen. He didn’t feel any different. Wasn’t sure what he’d expected. 

At school he half wondered if anyone would remember it was his birthday, but if they did they certainly didn’t bother mentioning it. Alex even made himself go up and say hi to Tom, but just got a distracted ‘hi’ back, and ended up despising himself for being so needy.

Why the fuck hadn’t he told Yassen? He could confess his deepest, darkest fantasies, but not tell him when his birthday was? And he expected Yassen to think of him as an adult? What a joke.

After school he went home, some part of him holding out hope he might have at least a card from someone, but there was nothing but junk mail on the mat. 

Alex wondered what Yassen was doing right now, and when he might be finished. Even when he did, he probably wouldn’t think to disturb Alex if he thought he was settled in for an evening at home. There was one way to resolve that though, and deciding that even if he didn’t see Yassen until the next morning it was better than going another whole day before seeing him at all, Alex grabbed his coat and left the house at a run.

–

When Yassen got home that night, in the end earlier than he’d expected, he turned on the bedroom light and stopped in surprise. Of all possible sights, he hadn’t expected to find Alex curled up fully dressed in the middle of his bed like a stray cat.

“Alex?”

Alex lifted his head, blinking in the light. “Oh. Hey.”

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Yassen glanced down at his hands. “Just – sorry, give me a second, I need to wash.” He disappeared hurriedly into the bathroom.

When he came out Alex looked concerned. “Was that blood? Are you hurt?”

“No – no, just oil. I had some trouble with the car.” Yassen sat down on the bed and held his arms out. Alex crawled over to him and let Yassen hug him hello.

“Is everything alright?” Yassen asked, sensing Alex was sad and unsure why. 

“Yeah.” It was a remarkably unconvincing sigh, and Yassen gave a low laugh.

“What’s wrong?” He tilted Alex’s face up to look at him. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing. Really. It’s just – it’s my birthday.”

“What?” Yassen stared at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m sixteen.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Alex shrugged, embarrassed. “You were busy.”

“You could have told me yesterday? Or – texted me or something?” Yassen took in Alex’s expression, and pulled him into his arms. “Oh sweetheart.” 

“It’s fine,” Alex mumbled, pressing his face into Yassen’s neck and hugging him tight. And it was, in a way. Yassen’s reaction had laid some of his fears to rest, and that was worth more than any number of birthday wishes.

Yassen pushed him back gently and waited until Alex looked up at him. “You’re mine, Alex. But that means I am yours, too. You understand that, right? You can always talk to me.”

They held each other again then, a brief but fierce hug before Yassen pulled back, looking determined. 

“Right. Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. Out. It’s London, something will be open. Come on, it’s still your birthday for another few hours, right?”

Laughing now, Alex let Yassen take his hand and followed him out of the flat.

–

“How about that?” Yassen suggested, pointing at the London Eye, lit up and still boarding for its final late night run.

“Yeah?” 

“I like it. It has a very good view,” Yassen said thoughtfully. “But I’ve never been on it at night.”

There weren’t many tourists about at this hour and they had a pod to themselves, watching the lights of London slowly spreading out below them as they were lifted higher into the air. Yassen put an arm around him and Alex snuggled into his side.

“It’s beautiful,” Alex sighed. 

“It is,” Yassen agreed. “Like you.”

Alex looked round and Yassen kissed him. Alex felt his heart flutter. Yassen had never kissed him in public before. Okay, they were alone a hundred metres above London, but there were cameras. 

When they returned to the ground, Yassen took his hand. “Now where?”

“Ice cream,” Alex said firmly, making him smile. 

“Alright.” 

They found an open ice cream parlour on Leicester Square, Alex tucking into the biggest bowl of mixed ice cream, whipped cream, sauces and assorted sprinkle toppings that either of them had ever seen. Yassen sat opposite, working his way through a small serving of raspberry sorbet and watching Alex with something like horrified fascination.

“You want to try it?” Alex asked, holding out his spoon.

“No. Thank you. It looks utterly revolting.”

“It’s great,” Alex said, wiping a dribble of lurid pink away from his chin with his wrist.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Yassen said evenly. “Although you’ll probably taste of it for weeks, so maybe I’ll get the gist.”

Alex smirked, a curl of warmth unfurling inside him to combat the chill of the ice cream. He’d been worried that this would make him look childish to Yassen, but apparently even demanding birthday ice cream and then getting sticky with it wasn’t enough to dampen the man’s ardour. 

When they stepped outside again the temperature had dropped considerably. Alex shivered, and was glad when Yassen put an arm around him. 

“Now where?”

Alex looked at him. “Actually – this is great but, can we go home?” 

“Sleepy?” 

“Not too sleepy,” Alex said suggestively. 

Yassen laughed. “You have to promise not to throw up on me after eating all that.”

“Might be safer if I go on top,” Alex teased, smiling to himself when it made Yassen laugh again. He relished his ability to make the man laugh almost more than his ability to make him come. Possibly because it happened more infrequently. 

Less than an hour later they were cuddled up in bed together. “Happy birthday,” Yassen whispered, and kissed him.

“I love you.” It just slipped out and seeing the flicker of surprise that passed across Yassen’s face Alex immediately wished he could take it back. But Yassen studied him consideringly, smoothing the hair back from Alex’s forehead and stroking his cheek.

“I love you too,” he admitted quietly.

“You do?” Alex blinked at him, heart beating fast.

“I do.” Yassen smiled at him, and Alex thought he looked almost puzzled. “I really do. I’ve been alone, for so long. I never expected this. To feel like this.” He sighed. “But at the same time – what we are doing – it isn’t right.”

“I know.” Alex took hold of his hand, squeezed it. “I know, Yassen. And I don’t care. I love you.”

Yassen looked at him, conflicted and ultimately helpless in the face of Alex’s simple trust. He kissed him softly. 

“Did we rescue the day, in the end?” he asked, nudging the conversation onto a less soul-exposing track. Alex smiled broadly. 

“Best birthday ever,” he agreed.

“I wish I’d known before,” Yassen murmured sleepily. “Is there anything you would like? A present?”

Alex shook his head. “You already buy me too much.”

“I like to spoil you.”

“I’ve already got everything I want,” Alex whispered, and kissed him. “Right here.”

–

Buoyed up by Yassen’s unexpected reciprocal confession, Alex practically floated through the rest of the week. He was further cheered when Tom approached him on Friday afternoon with an unexpected offer.

“So – we’re having a film marathon tonight. If you were interested? Seven o’clock start.” Tom offered it in the most off-hand manner he could manage, but truth be told he was feeling a bit guilty. He’d known perfectly well it had been Alex’s birthday, but he’d still been harbouring a certain resentment at the way Alex had just blanked him for months. 

“Really? I mean, yeah, I’d love to!” Alex blurted, staring at him in surprise. 

“Great. Well. You know where I live.”

There was a slight tone to that which Alex didn’t miss. Maybe he could have done more to salvage their friendship. But also – a horrible thought struck him. _Could_ he come?

“Oh. Actually – I don’t know if I can.”

Tom’s face closed down again immediately. “Whatever.”

“No! I mean – I want to. I’ll have to ask. I’m just – staying further away, right now.”

“Where?” Tom asked curiously, knowing that Alex didn’t have any other immediate family.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be there. If I can. I promise.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t put yourself out.”

Alex watched him walk away, and winced. 

–

“Yassen – can I go out?” Alex asked. He’d got back to the flat, showered and changed and then come to find him, armouring himself with the knowledge Yassen had promised he could talk to him about anything he needed to.

Yassen looked faintly bemused. “You’re not a prisoner.”

“No, I know, I just mean – tonight. I’ve been invited somewhere. Film night at a friend’s.”

Yassen looked at him, and Alex wondered what he was thinking. Would he forbid him? Friday night, no school the next day – Yassen usually liked taking advantage of that. He might not like the idea of Alex having other friends, either. 

Eventually Yassen seemed to come to a decision, and reached into his pocket, slid something across the worktop. A key to the flat.

“I was meaning to give you this anyway.”

Alex stared at it, then up at him.

“I would prefer it if you didn’t bring anyone back here,” Yassen said quietly. 

“No. Of course.”

“And – I’d also prefer you didn’t tell anyone my name.”

“Oh. Right. Yes, okay. I haven’t,” Alex added quickly. Of course. He tended to forget that what they’d been doing was enough to get Yassen locked up. No wonder the man was cautious. “I’ll just say I’ve staying with a family friend or something. Lost lost Rider cousin.”

Yassen gave a glimmer of a smile, and Alex grinned. “So I can go?”

“Of course you can.”

Alex threw himself into his arms and kissed him.

–

The film night had been a resounding success, and had ended so late it had been technically early. Alex had gone back to his own house afterwards, being so much closer, and woke late the next day. 

He stretched happily, feeling almost like his old self. He was firmly friends with Tom again, he had a key to Yassen’s flat, and it was the weekend. He could head over there and – well, if he was lucky probably get right back into bed again.

Alex got dressed and took some bread out of the freezer to make toast. Just as it popped up the doorbell rang, and he frowned. Who the hell was that? Yassen or Tom would have texted before turning up. He checked his phone on the way to the door, but there were no new messages from either.

He opened the door to find a smartly dressed woman in glasses giving him a bright professional smile. 

“Hello. I’m not sure if you remember me?”

Alex frowned, one hand still on the door effectively blocking the entrance as he peered at the woman on the doorstep. She looked familiar, but it took him a second to place her. His uncle’s funeral. She worked for the bank.

“Yes, of course. Mrs...” he tailed off, unsure of the name. He hadn’t taken much in, that day.

“Jones. Mrs Jones. Hello Alex.”

\--


	11. Chapter 11

“How are you?”

“Fine,” Alex said automatically, confused. “I guess. Can I help you?”

“Can I come in?”

Alex stared at her, baffled, then shrugged. “If you want.” He stepped back inside, letting her follow him through to the kitchen. 

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Alex offered reflexively, mostly to fill the silence. “Er – I haven’t got any milk though. I’m not here much.” It made him realise what a coincidence it was that she’d managed to run into him, and then realised it couldn’t be a coincidence at all. Had she tried before? Was someone watching the _house_?

“I’ll have coffee then, if it’s black. Thank you.”

Alex felt a spike of annoyance. He hadn’t offered that. He passed over the bag of ground filter coffee and made her a mug with the cheap instant granules instead. Nothing for himself, he suddenly felt uneasy and wanted her to be gone without really knowing why. His toast, forgotten in the toaster, slowly went cold.

“Where are you staying?” she asked casually. “If not here?”

“With a friend.”

“I see. That’s good. It’s important to have support at a time like this.” 

Alex stared at her. As if he’d had any from anyone other than Yassen. Certainly no-one Ian had worked with had shown an interest before now. 

Alex folded his arms. “So what can I do for you?”

“Just wanted to see how you were getting on.” She gave him a sympathetic smile which he returned with a blank face. It was bullshit, and he could smell it. If she’d really cared, where had she been when he’d been in pieces? But her next question startled him.

“And to ask why you haven’t applied anywhere to do A-levels?”

“What?” Alex was thrown. It was on the tip of his tongue to say he’d agreed to take a year out to reset himself and think about what he wanted to do, but sensed that would lead to questions about who he’d discussed it _with_. Also it was none of her business. Also…

“How do you know that?”

“We take an interest.”

“The bank?” Alex was more confused than ever.

“We agreed we wouldn’t bother you until you were sixteen, but we wondered if you might consider following your uncle’s career path.”

Alex gave an incredulous laugh. “I’m not really cut out to be a banker.”

“He didn’t work for a bank, Alex,” she said calmly. 

“What? Of course he did.”

“No. That was just a cover.”

Alex finally sank down into a seat, staring at her. “Cover for what?”

“Ian Rider worked for the Secret Intelligence Service. Better known as MI6.”

“He was a spy?” Alex choked it out, half-laughing. But this wasn’t funny and he knew, somehow, that she wasn’t joking. Weirdly it explained – a lot.

“Essentially, yes. It’s obviously a little more complicated. Look, I know this is a lot for you to take in Alex. But if it helps you think about your decision regarding your future – so was your father.”

Alex’s head came up and he stared at her fixedly. Suddenly a cold snake of doubt was uncurling in his stomach. They said they’d been taking an interest in him. How far had that extended? 

“Do you know someone called Yassen?” he asked, through numb lips. To his surprise, Mrs Jones’ reaction was as startled as his had been.

“Yassen?” She stared back at him, clearly thrown off balance for the first time since she’d entered the house. “Yassen Gregorovich?” 

Alex shrugged. He realised he didn’t actually know Yassen’s surname, even after all this time. Had that been deliberate? “I don’t know. Could be?”

“He’s dead. He’s been dead for years.”

Alex opened his mouth, then closed it again, reconsidering. “Would he have known my father?” he asked carefully.

“How did you – yes, he did.”

“Did he work for you as well? Yassen?”

“No. No, he – worked for the other side.”

“The Russians?”

Mrs Jones shook her head. “The independents, I suppose you could say. He was a contract killer. One of the best. Your father worked undercover for a time. They knew each other then.” She frowned. “Where did you hear the name Alex?”

Alex swallowed. “I must have heard it somewhere.” The lie came automatically. He wasn’t sure, after what she’d just told him, why his instinct was still to protect Yassen. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her, either. It all made a chilling kind of sense. The weird hours, the weird injuries, the secrecy around not wanting anyone to know his name. The money. The – interesting morals.

She was still looking at him assessingly though, and he groped for something else to say. “Must have been Ian. Maybe I heard him on the phone or something. Talking about my father, so – I listened.” He forced himself to stop rambling before he tripped himself up, but Mrs Jones was looking concerned. 

“I have no idea why Ian would have been talking about Yassen. Do you know if he suspected the man was still alive? If he’d stumbled onto something like that it might have been why he was...” she cut herself off, but it was too late.

“Why he was what?”

Mrs Jones sighed. “Your uncle didn’t die in a car crash Alex. He was killed on the job.”

Alex felt dizzy. “Who by?”

“We thought the North Koreans.”

“You thought.”

“You will appreciate that sort of thing is difficult to investigate. But if Yassen is still alive, and Ian had found that out...” she let the thought tail off. “He was a very dangerous man,” she sighed. “Deadly, and without remorse.”

Alex wrapped his arms around himself, feeling sick. It wasn’t even the thought that Yassen had potentially killed his uncle, it was the thought that everything since had been a lie. The knowledge that that hurt more was an added layer of guilt around his heart.

“I’d like you to leave now, please,” Alex said quietly. 

“We’d like to take care of you. We have graduate programmes – ”

“I’m not interested. Thank you.” Alex stood up. After a second, Mrs Jones followed suit. She had only taken one sip of her coffee.

“If you reconsider, please contact me. Or if you need help, at all. For any reason.” She held out a card, and when he made no move to take it, laid it on the kitchen table. “Goodbye then Alex. For now. I hope to see you again.”

–

Alex made the journey to Yassen’s flat in a daze. He wondered if confronting the man was an incredibly stupid thing to do, but he needed to hear it from his lips. And it wasn’t as if it was the first time he’d made the journey wondering if he’d be dead by the end of the day. He found he didn’t care if he survived any more now than he had then.

He let himself in, wondering if Yassen would even be there but he was sitting at the table working on his laptop. He closed it when Alex came in but gave him a surprised smile of welcome that hurt Alex’s heart.

“Alex. I wasn’t expecting you this early.” He rose to his feet, studying Alex’s expression. “Is everything all right?”

“What’s your surname?” Alex asked, pacing across the room towards him, face set hard. “I don’t think you’ve ever said.”

Yassen hesitated. “Gregorovich.”

Alex nodded. “Looking good for a dead man.”

Yassen slowly came to meet him, face carefully blank. “Who have you been talking to?”

“Mrs Jones. From the bank,” said Alex, the final word dripping with sarcasm. “She paid me a visit. Some bollocks about following in my family’s footsteps.” 

He checked himself, remembering something. “Um. They might suspect you’re not dead,” Alex admitted. “Just so you know. I didn’t tell them anything but – I didn’t know, did I? That there was anything to hide?” 

He could hear the bitterness in his own voice, and it scared him. He wished Yassen would say something, anything, rather than just standing there watching him warily. 

“Did you kill my father?”

Yassen looked genuinely startled. “No! Of course not.”

Alex swallowed. “What about my uncle?”

This time there was no response, Yassen looking like he was searching for what to say. But the lack of immediate and matching denial spoke volumes. Alex found he was obscurely grateful Yassen hadn’t just lied to his face.

“Why?” Alex croaked. “Why this? Why me? Was it all lies?” 

“No. Everything I said to you, I meant,” Yassen promised. “Every word.”

“But you killed Ian?”

Yassen sighed. “Yes.” 

Alex wanted to scream at him, but this was overtaken by a sudden more urgent reaction and he clamped his hand to his mouth. “I’m gonna be sick,” he mumbled through his fingers, and dashed for the bathroom.

Kneeling on the floor, head over the lavatory and shaking like a dog, Alex was a mess of confusions. Part of him even now wanted Yassen to come in and comfort him. Part of him was grateful Yassen had granted him space. Mostly he just felt utterly, bleakly empty.

When Alex re-emerged, he half-wondered if Yassen might have gone but he was still there, sitting on the sofa waiting for him like he was carved out of ice. Alex cautiously sat down next to him.

“Tell me how to fix this,” Yassen said quietly.

“You can’t.” Alex’s voice was level, numb. 

“Alex – ” 

“No. Don’t. I’m leaving.” Alex finally looked at him. “I was going to take my stuff, but nothing here’s mine, is it? Not really.” It was all things Yassen had bought for him. Even the clothes he was wearing. He tore the watch off his wrist and threw it across the carpet. 

“Of course it is.”

“Well I don’t want it. I don’t want anything of yours.” Alex could feel the pressure of tears behind his eyes. “Everything that happened to me – all of it – it was your fault. You caused it. Directly.”

“Alex – please. Let me – ” 

“Don’t you _dare_ say let me explain.” Alex pointed a shaky finger at him, scrambling to his feet. Then immediately contradicted himself as a terrible thought struck him. “Oh – God, tell me it wasn’t because of me.”

The idea that Yassen might have killed Ian to get him out of the way, to clear the way to take Alex for himself – it was paralysing in its horror, but Yassen was shaking his head, looking as appalled as Alex felt, following him to his feet.

“No – no Alex, Christ, don’t think that. No, it was nothing – personal. The people I work for wanted him gone, that’s all. I didn’t even knew you existed until the funeral. I swear.”

It was a microscopic relief in an ocean of hurt. But the rest – knowing that everything he’d been through, every desperate minute of loneliness and despair and isolation had been because of Yassen – it was like a knife through his heart.

“I’m going now. I never want to see you again. Ever.”

Alex walked to the door, vision blurring with tears he was determined he wouldn’t spill. Even now, a small part of him was hoping Yassen would stop him. Pull him back, lock him in, _make_ him stay. He could hate him properly then, if Yassen kept him against his will. Kept him, used him, hurt him.

It would, in the end, have been less painful.

But Yassen let him walk out without another word, and Alex made it all the way out to the road before the tears came.

–

Yassen sank into a chair at the table and put his head into his hands. He’d known, on some level, that this would happen in some form one day, and now it had. There was nothing to be done. Like so many other things in his life, what he could not change he would simply have to bear. He couldn’t even say he didn’t deserve it.

He would have to take steps, he realised. He wasn’t sure if Alex would go to MI6, but even if he didn’t it was a risk he could no longer take. 

He took out his phone, the second one, and dialled a number from memory. It was an automated voice that answered, but he knew they would be listening. 

“It’s me. Just to report – I am available for assignment again, if needed.”

Yassen hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. He’d been claiming an ongoing commitment in London and they’d been using him as a fallback for local emergency responses, but there was no reason for that any more. He didn’t know where they’d send him, but he hoped it was a long way from here.

He went to the wardrobe and fetched his go-bag, walking out of the flat and down the stairs without a single look back. It would soon be apparent if anyone was coming after him. If they didn’t, then he could send someone for the rest of his things. If not – they could all be replaced. He would never come back here himself. The flat, the car – once abandoned there would be no way Alex or anyone else could trace him. It would be like he’d never existed.

Yassen walked unhurriedly to the tube station, just one more figure in the dwindling morning crush.

As he disappeared into the underground, he wondered what was it about the Riders, that they had such capacity to break his heart.

–


	12. Chapter 12

Alex didn’t remember the journey home, it was just a blur of misery. He threw himself down on his bed and let the tears come, wracking sobs that left him aching and empty. 

He hated Yassen, he hated him so much. So why could he only think about the feel of Yassen’s arms around him, holding him close? The scent of him, the taste of him, the sound of him. Quiet laughter, the brush of lips as he was falling asleep, the expensive shower gel Alex always stole so he could smell like Yassen when he wasn’t there.

How could good memories hurt so badly? 

Hours later, his rumbling stomach finally overcoming his determination to just lie there until he died, Alex trailed down to the kitchen. He threw away the morning’s stone cold toast and peered into the freezer. He would have to go shopping, Yassen had been feeding him for months. 

He stared at the photographs stuck to the door. Ian looked back at him reproachfully, faded now from the sunlight. All Alex could think was that he didn’t have a picture of Yassen. If Alex had tried to take one he’d always moved away with his hand up. Alex had assumed he was just camera-shy. Now he realised it had been something else entirely. 

How long would it be, before Alex couldn’t remember his face properly?

–

After a weekend of bleak misery and takeaway comfort-eating, on Monday somehow Alex got himself up and ready for school. It almost came as a faint shock, the idea that life would carry on regardless, that the world hadn’t come to a stop along with his heart. 

The rattle of the letterbox stirred him from his daze and he carried a stack of post back to the kitchen table, sorting through it in surprise. He hardly ever got letters, but there were three official looking envelopes here, and he opened them nervously. All the bills were taken care of online, but suddenly here was a raft of paperwork he needed to somehow fill out for renewal of house insurance, a letter claiming his landline and broadband were going to be cut off for non-payment of fees, and a stern letter from the council informing him there had been complaints from the neighbours about the state of his back garden. 

Alex went and peered guiltily out of the window. The garden wasn’t huge, but his lack of interest coupled with the fact he was hardly ever here meant it had turned into something of a jungle. Given the prissy nature of all the other gardens round here he was probably brining the house prices down.

He shuffled it all into a pile and ignored it for now. The thought occurred to him that he could take it up to Ian’s office and deal with it there. His office, now. His house. Maybe he should bite the bullet and move into the master bedroom as well. There was no way he could sell the place until he was eighteen, so he was trapped here for at least another two years. Might as well make the best of it.

But that night he crawled back into his own bed, his mind dwelling treacherously on the memory of lying here with Yassen until he fell asleep.

On Tuesday there was another letter. A computer error apparently meant he somehow owed a year’s worth of council tax, and while they were very sorry for the mix-up he needed to pay it within days or there would be additional charges. 

On Wednesday it was a final demand for payment of an outstanding electricity bill. Alex stared at the sheet of paper with its accusing red border in alarm, feeling sick. Surely everything was dealt with online, automatically – how could you have a final demand when you hadn’t had any previous ones? But then, perhaps he’d missed an email. 

Alex managed to access the account and discovered that somehow the direct debit had been cancelled. He paid the arrears from his own account and closed the laptop, hands shaking. He would quickly run out of money to feed himself if he had to pay bills from his own available funds. He would need to speak to somebody, and that would surely flag up the fact he was living alone. Fuck. What if they put him in a home? Or was he old enough now? He didn’t know.

By Friday the heap of paperwork was spilling off the counter and Alex was at his wits end. He couldn’t deal with this on top of everything else, he just couldn’t. He needed help, he needed someone to talk to. 

The thought occurred to him that the person he really wanted to speak to was Yassen, but that was hardly possible. Or was it? Once he’d had the thought, it wouldn’t leave him alone. _Could_ he ask Yassen’s advice? Asking your ex for help was hardly dignified, but if Yassen had meant even a fraction of the things he’d said to Alex he might be willing to at least offer begrudging advice. 

Before he could change his mind he’d fired off a text. _Can we talk?_ Thirty seconds later his phone vibrated and he picked it up feeling sick with anticipation, but it was only a delivery failure notification. 

Fuck. 

He could go round there. Could he? On a scale of one to several thousand, how bad an idea was it? 

–

He held out another week. By that point the amount of confusing paperwork and final demands had got him so anxious that frankly if Yassen shot him on sight it would be preferable. 

Standing outside Yassen’s door, Alex took a deep breath and knocked, but there was no answer. He felt in his pocket. He’d thrown the watch back at Yassen, but he’d forgotten about the key. He unlocked the door, walked inside – and stopped dead.

The place was empty. Not just of Yassen, but of everything. All the furniture had gone. 

Stunned, Alex wandered through the deserted flat. The kitchen appliances were still there, but everything else had been stripped clear and sanitised. The bathroom smelt of astringent cleaning fluid and the only sign the place had ever been inhabited were four slight dents in the carpet where the bed had stood. 

Somehow it was the last straw. Alex sat down on the floor where the bed had been and just started to cry. 

He’d tried to talk himself down, after the initial meltdown. He’d told himself, coldly and rationally, why his relationship with Yassen had been bad, and how it had been a direct consequence of what Yassen had done that he’d even been in that headspace to begin with. He’d told himself that Yassen was a Bad Person. He was a contract killer. A murderer. He’d killed Ian, and who knew how many others. He’d taken advantage of a vulnerable fifteen year old boy, and used him for sex.

But after all that was said and done Alex found he didn’t care. No, that wasn’t quite true, he did care – it just didn’t outweigh the factor by which he missed Yassen. Whatever else he’d done, even if he’d caused it in the first place, Yassen had taken Alex when he was broken and lonely and put him back together. Alex thought he’d even done it without really meaning to. He hadn’t been acting out of some form of guilt, or duty. It had been a side-effect, almost. But simply by being with Yassen, being held and loved and listened to, Alex had come out the other side of the worst time of his life as a whole person again.

He wished he could take back the things he’d said. He wished Yassen had fought harder to keep him – but had to admit that here, too, Yassen had only done exactly what Alex had asked him to. 

He had no way of contacting him, no way of telling him he was sorry, that he took it all back. Alex didn’t suppose after everything he’d said that Yassen would even want him back. 

Perhaps he’d found another boy in another city, Alex told himself, although that was mostly to torture himself with the pain he felt he deserved and he didn’t really believe it. Where was Yassen though? Was he safe? Was he heartbroken and taking stupid risks? Would he end up like John and Ian before him?

Alex sat there and sobbed his heart out, but there was no-one to dry his tears any more and in the end all he could do was get up, wash his face in the sink, and go tiredly home again.

–

“What did we have to come all the way here for?” Tom complained. “What’s special about this place?”

“Nothing,” Alex said defensively. “I just like it, okay? I like the breakfasts.”

They were sitting in the cafe he’d visited with Yassen, more than once. He didn’t really believe he was going to see Yassen sitting casually at a table drinking coffee, but hope was a persistent thorn in his heart and he’d dragged Tom all the way across town. 

Yassen – of course – wasn’t there, but the familiar surroundings soothed his heart slightly, and Alex headed for their normal table, taking Yassen’s accustomed seat this time, in the corner of the room looking out.

“What’s going on with you?” Tom grumbled good-naturedly. “You’ve had a face like a wet weekend for days.”

Alex hesitated. There were obviously things he couldn’t say, but the need to talk to someone was too much. “I was seeing someone,” he admitted. “We split up.”

“You were seeing someone?” Tom asked, half-disbelieving. “First you’ve mentioned it. Who?”

 _A Russian assassin twice my age._ “Nobody you know.” 

“Does she go to our school?”

Alex hesitated. “No. And – it’s not a she.”

Tom’s jaw dropped. “You mean – you’re – gay?” He whispered the last word, and Alex sighed.

“Yes.” His original fears over coming out seemed so insignificant now, after everything else.

“Oh. Right.” Tom’s face went through an interesting series of readjustments, then he nodded and shrugged. “Cool.”

Alex relaxed, and ventured a smile. 

“So – why’d you split up?”

 _He murdered my uncle. It was kind’ve a deal-breaker._ “He lied to me.”

“Oh. Oh well. Plenty more fish in the sea, eh?”

“I miss him though.” Alex sagged miserably. “I’ve made such a fucking huge mistake Tom.”

“Can’t you call him? And like – grovel until he takes you back or something?”

“His number’s disconnected. And – he’s moved out of his flat.”

Tom’s eyes went wide. “What, because of you? Fuck.” He sounded almost impressed. “Guess he took it hard, huh?”

Alex choked on his tea, and Tom grinned. “If you’ll pardon the expression. Hang on, his flat? How old is this guy?”

“Wow, look at that.” Alex nodded at the TV screen fixed to the wall showing a 24 hour news channel. “Crazy huh?” The sound was off but the subtitles were scrolling across and Tom squinted up at the breaking story. Alex breathed a sigh of relief that he’d been successfully distracted.

_His Royal Highness Prince Andrew the Duke of York was killed earlier today in a freak accident at Windsor Castle. Renovation works had been ongoing at the castle when an unsecured block of masonry fell from a section of scaffolding. Investigations are ongoing, however no foul play is suspected._

“Well we all know what happened there, don’t we?” Tom said significantly, stirring a third sugar into his cappuccino. 

“Poor health and safety practices?” Alex ventured. “Someone’s getting fired.”

“Oh come on. They got him, right?”

“Who did?”

“He could have told them things, yeah? Implicated people. He obviously had to be silenced. Like the other guy.”

Alex stared at him. Tom’s imagination and penchant for conspiracy theories was notorious, but – but. Suddenly the world of shadowy assassinations seemed a lot closer to reality than it had before.

“It was just an accident. They said so.”

“And you believe that? God Alex, you’re so innocent. They obviously paid to have him bumped off.”

“Who’s they?”

Tom shrugged. “People with money and something to lose. I don’t know. People with _contacts_.”

“Well, either way I guess he deserved it.” Alex shifted uncomfortably. He’d been trying to come to terms with the idea of Yassen as a contract killer, but the unpleasant reality was that it was rarely the people on the side of truth and justice who paid to have people murdered. It was a side of Yassen he’d never had the chance to see, much less discuss with him, and now he never would.

Although – his eyes slid back to the screen thoughtfully. Was there a chance Yassen was still in London after all? He’d assumed he would be long gone, but – what if he was still here? 

–

“Hello Alex.”

“You again.” Alex considered slamming the front door in Mrs Jones’ face, then wondered if that might actually be dangerous. 

“I wondered if you’d reconsidered our offer?” 

“And why would I do that?”

“We can help you Alex. It must be hard, on your own. We understand there was some kind of mix up with your community support before. We could arrange better assistance for you. Access to funds. Help with paperwork and so on. Until you reach your legal majority.”

Alex stared at her. He wondered how he could have been so stupid. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” he said slowly. “All these forms, and the sudden demands. You’re sending them.”

“Of course not, don’t be silly. But the adult world can be a very daunting one to navigate on your own.”

Alex noticed she hadn’t said ‘what forms?’

“I told you. I’m not interested. Why would I want that? To become someone who lies to his family the whole time? To lie, and lie, and lie, my whole life? Only to get killed, and then have people lie about my death? No. I don’t care what you do, you can repossess my house, chuck me out on the street, I won’t do it. I don’t want to be the person my uncle was.”

“Your father - ”

“I never knew him,” Alex said coldly. “Do you know why I never knew him? Because he’s been dead my whole life. Also, and I’m guessing here, but correct me if I’m wrong, because of who and what he was. I was told it was a plane crash. Did my _mother_ die because of what he was?” 

He was almost crying with frustration now, but Mrs Jones remained impassive. 

“You know what else? Those same reasons are why nobody has ever told me anything truthful about him. So no, I don’t give a toss about who my father was. Or my uncle, for that matter. And I certainly don’t give a toss about you, or whatever cause you’re trying to recruit me to. So you can just. Fuck. Off.” 

Alex closed the door in her face, not with a bang but with a quiet snick. 

Inside, he sank slowly to the floor, resting his head on his knees. He heard her heels tapping away, and the slam of a car door.

Found he was shaking slightly. Would they leave him alone now, or keep coming back? Why were they bothering him at all? Were they that short-staffed? Or had his family really been that extraordinary?

He realised the one person who might have been able to tell him something honest about his father was Yassen and felt a stab of loss all over again. 

Yassen. Calm, unruffled, competent Yassen. God how Alex wished he was there right now, to just take him into his arms and make all the problems go away. 

He thought again about the possibility Yassen was still in London. The chances of genuinely running into him accidentally were miniscule but – what if the odds could be altered? Alex had no idea how to find him, but Yassen knew where he was. If Yassen had been telling the truth about how he felt about Alex – and Alex clung now to the memory of those words harder than anything else – would he have been able to resist coming to look? He’d watched him before. What if he still was?

It was a forlorn hope, but it was all he had. What he didn’t know was how to make it work for him. If Yassen was out there, he certainly wasn’t letting Alex get a glimpse of him this time round. 

It occurred to Alex that he could get back up on the bridge. Yassen had said he would stop him – if he thought Alex had fallen back that far, would he intervene? But he dismissed the idea again almost immediately. That kind of emotional blackmail left a bad taste in his mouth, and he was tired of lies. He wouldn’t – couldn’t – do that to Yassen.

But – there was one other avenue potentially open to him. And if Yassen really was watching him – it was one that had worked before. 

–

It was dark outside. The lights were on, the blinds were open – and Alex felt more nervous than he had at any other time he’d done this. He’d even wondered if he’d be able to get hard, but lying there on the sofa where Yassen had fucked him he couldn’t help it. 

He thought about it, pulling the memory round him as he unzipped himself. Yassen pushing him down, spreading his legs. Thrusting into him.

Alex let out a quiet moan as he started stroking himself. How had he been so stupid as to let go the best thing in his life? Yassen might have caused him to grow up fast but God it had been worth it.

He pushed into his hand, memories coming thick and fast. Yassen lying here, holding him close, fucking him out with his fingers. Yassen watching him eat ice cream with something close to outright amusement, and kissing him even though he was sticky. Yassen’s hands on the steering wheel. Yassen’s hands on Alex’s hips, holding him down. Yassen’s hands - 

Alex realised abruptly it really had been blood on them that night, and wasn’t quite sure how to feel when it was that thought that suddenly made him come. 

“Oh, fuck.” Alex sat up, reaching for the tissues he’d set by, feeling wrung out and mildly embarrassed. That should not have been the thing that did it. 

He cleaned himself up and tidied his clothing. There’d been no indication anyone had seen what he’d done. No text. He let his head fall back miserably, tears pricking at his eyes. He was fooling himself. Yassen was probably on the other side of the world by now. 

Alex wondered if wherever he was he’d suddenly thought of Alex and wondered why. 

The sound of the front door opening sent Alex’s heart into his mouth. 

Footsteps came down the hall and there was a brief moment of terror when Alex considered the belated possibility of it being someone else entirely, and then, somehow, impossibly, there was Yassen standing in the doorway, looking down at him.

Alex sucked in a ragged breath, staring up at him, wondering what he would do. He realised he had no idea how Yassen felt now, whether he was angry, or disgusted with him.

Yassen just studied him for a while, leaning on the door post, then shook his head slightly and crossed to the window where he closed the blinds before coming to sit carefully next to Alex on the couch.

“You shouldn’t leave them open,” he said finally, “someone could see what you’re doing. They might take it as an invitation,” he added softly, with just the merest hint of a question in his voice.

With a stifled sob Alex threw himself into Yassen’s arms. _“Yassen.”_

Yassen held him, fiercely tight. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, face buried in Alex’s hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Alex shook his head convulsively, beyond words but clinging to Yassen with possessive force as if he might disappear again. Yassen held him until he was calmer, rocking him gently. 

When Alex finally looked up Yassen wiped the tears from his cheek with a sigh. “I love you Alex,” he whispered. “Whatever else I may have said or done, that was always true. I swear.”

Alex leaned up and kissed him shakily, with lips that tasted of tears.

“I tried to hate you,” he said sadly. “But I couldn’t. I love you too much. Even knowing what you did.” 

“Alex. Oh, Alex.” Yassen drew him back into his arms and hugged him. “Forgive me.”

This time when Alex sat up with a sniff he looked stronger. “I didn’t know what to do,” he confessed, giving a sheepish laugh, and indicating himself and the room as a whole. “I didn’t know how to find you.”

“As bat-signals go, it’s certainly novel,” Yassen murmured. “Although you’d better hope I was the only one watching the house tonight.” He frowned. “Speaking of which, I had better not stay long. If MI6 are interested in you...” He let the thought tail off, but Alex grabbed his hand.

“Take me with you?”

Yassen hesitated. “Are you sure it’s what you want?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

Yassen gave him a searching look, then nodded. “Can you fetch your things? Whatever you need.”

“Yes.” Alex jumped to his feet, then came back and threw his arms around Yassen’s neck and kissed him. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Ten minutes later they were in Yassen’s car and speeding away.

“New car,” Alex remarked, looking around.

“Yes.” 

“It’s got a back seat,” Alex noted.

“So it has.” This time there was a suggestion of a smile around Yassen’s lips. 

“Hmmn.” Alex settled back, content just to watch Yassen drive, the streetlights washing over his face. 

He’d made the right decision, Alex thought with relief. Everything had happened in something of a blur in the end, but now he’d had the chance to collect himself he realised he felt calmer just being with Yassen. He felt safe now, and it was perhaps an odd thing to think in the circumstances, but it was true. 

Alex wasn’t sure where they were heading – he assumed perhaps a hotel, or another flat somewhere, but Yassen pulled into the driveway of a quiet house in Hampstead, with electric gates and a high wall.

“Is this yours?” Alex asked, following him inside and looking around with interest.

“For now.”

“Uh-huh. Discreet and expensive. Just like you.” 

Yassen laughed. Alex wound his arms around him, and they stopped right there in the hallway and kissed each other for a long time. 

“So, do I get the tour?” Alex asked, when they’d refamiliarised themselves with each other to a comforting extent.

Yassen took him by the hand and lead him through the downstairs, a stylish living room, dining room and kitchen, and then out into a secluded walled garden and patio. Glancing at Alex he flicked a switch, and a swathe of golden fairy lights lit up an old apple tree. 

Alex laughed in delight. “I’m guessing you didn’t put those up?”

Yassen shook his head. “No. But when I saw them I knew you’d like them. Except – you weren’t here to see them,” he added wistfully, and Alex put his head on Yassen’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for Alex. Nothing. The fault is all mine, for everything.”

“I could have at least let you explain.”

“I’m not sure that would have made it any better, to be honest.”

Alex stifled the inappropriate urge to laugh, and took Yassen’s hand instead. “I think we have a lot of talking to do,” he said quietly. “I love you, but there’s this huge part of you that I know nothing about. And I want to.”

“I’m not sure it’s very lovable,” Yassen warned him. “It might be better if - ”

“No.” Alex interrupted him firmly. “I want to know. I want to know everything. Even the bad stuff. I want to love all of you.”

Yassen kissed him then, but he was clearly still hesitating and Alex rolled his eyes. “I mean, I promise never to repeat anything you say, obviously.” He sighed. “And I just meant generally. You don’t have to tell me secret stuff if you really can’t. In fact, you’d probably best not tell me anything I could be made to tell anyone else.”

“Have MI6 been bothering you?”

“Yeah, they came back once. I told them to fuck off. But I also meant – others. I guess there’s people who would use me against you if they could?” 

Yassen nodded uncomfortably, and Alex swallowed. “There you are then. I deserve to know what I’m getting into. Don’t I?”

“You do,” Yassen agreed softly, looking at him in something like wonder. Then he smiled. “Did you really tell MI6 to fuck off?”

“Yep.” Alex smirked, then looked worried. “I’m probably on a list or something now.”

Yassen’s smile was wider. “Have I told you that I love you?”

Alex laughed, and Yassen shook his head. “I did wonder for a second if they were using you as bait. But it seemed a little extreme, even for them.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “You thought it might be a trap, and you came in anyway?”

“I suppose I didn’t really care what happened to me,” Yassen admitted. Alex looked stricken, but Yassen stroked his cheek and smiled. “Perhaps I thought it was a risk worth taking.”

Alex sighed, stared self-consciously at his shoes for a moment, then looked back up at him. “Promise you’ll never lie to me again?”

“I promise.”

“Then, I forgive you,” Alex said solemnly. “For Ian. It doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, or that it’s not a big deal but – I love you. And whatever else is true, that’s the most important thing to me right now.” 

“Alex.” Yassen looked more shaken than Alex had ever seen him, even more so than the day Alex had walked out. He drew Alex into his arms and they clung to each other for a long time. 

Eventually they relaxed enough to let each other mostly go, although Yassen kept Alex’s hand in his. 

“Why don’t you show me the rest of the house?” Alex smiled. “I’m thinking starting with the bedroom.”

Yassen took him upstairs, and paused outside the first door they came to.

“Your things are in there,” he said. “If you want them back.”

“You kept them?” Alex asked in surprise.

“I did. I didn’t ever think you would forgive me, but I suppose I couldn’t give up hope.” Yassen looked faintly sheepish, and Alex squeezed his hand.

“Were you going to kidnap me and keep me locked up in there?”

“No!”

“Oh.” Alex gave him a sideways look. “Could we pretend you were?”

Yassen laughed, and pulled him into a hug. “God I’ve missed you.” He kissed him. “But seriously, if you need your own space – consider the room yours.”

“Thank you.” Alex gave him a sly smile. “And if I don’t?”

Yassen lead him down the hall and into the main bedroom where Alex had another surprise.

“You kept the same bed?”

“It held some rather nice memories for me,” Yassen admitted, looking more embarrassed than ever.

Alex grinned, and drew him into his arms to kiss him thoroughly. 

“So,” he murmured. “Want to make some more?”

–

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **MI6 Filenote: Rider, Alex.**  
>  Initial recruitment approach: [T Jones] Unsuccessful. However subject continues to show promise and resilience in face of extended circumstantial hardships. Recommended secondary recruitment approach made when subject reaches 18 years.   
> .  
> Additional filenote: [A Blunt] Withholding inheritance to be considered an option if secondary approach is also unsuccessful.  
> .  
> Additional filenote: [D Smithers] Rider house entered for surveillance purposes, however appears to be empty. Current whereabouts of subject unknown.


End file.
